Why I Couldn’t Talk To The Woman With Purple Hair

Sometimes I feel like I am living the movie “They Live.” Sometimes, when I glance at things, I see things that just can’t be real.  I see things that force me to look again, and even after that second look I find it hard to believe what I am seeing.

I have chronicled some of these sightings before. There was the woman with balloons.  There was the two-fisted drinker.  Less weird, but still without context, there was the ballerina on the bus.  I may be judging today’s weird sighting a little harshly, or at least letting the sheer novelty of it affect my judgement of its weirdness.  I kind of think it takes the cake, but perhaps it isn’t as colourful as I now deem it.

I boarded my bus and buried myself in my book (Bryson’s the Road to Little Dribbling). In between laugh out loud pages, I managed to spot a very attractive woman with purple hair.  It was a deep purple (pun intended despite its accuracy) and looked really attractive on her.  Now, before you scold me making light of a person’s hair colour choice, I must point out that this was not the quirky person for whom this post is named.  I am intrigued by interesting hair colours (thanks Japanese animation) and not in the least judgemental.  Additionally, my school colours included purple.  I considered it a good omen.  In fact, I was planning on talking to her.  She was reading a book and history has taught me that asking someone what they are reading is a good way to start a conversation.  Even if they aren’t interested in me, I might get a good recommendation for my next book.

This master plan was thwarted when another passenger boarded the bus and so skewed my thought process that I was too confused to talk to the woman with purple hair. What the Omens giveth, the Omens take away.

hockey gloves

You see, on this night that was mildly cooler than the day, but in no way a frigid temperature, the passenger found himself with a unique solution for his need of gloves. Canadians are an inventive lot.  I have seen people wearing hockey helmets when they couldn’t find their motorcycle helmets.  I have seen people using strainers when they couldn’t find their fishing nets.  I have seen pots used as hammers.  If you need gloves on a night that when other people don’t, I am sure many things would suffice.  Perhaps socks, or mittens, or motorcycle gloves, or cycling gloves, or work gloves could be substituted if need be.

Instead, this person was wearing a pair of hockey gloves. Before you tell me that maybe he was on his way to play shinny, I have to object.  He had no stick, no skates, no helmet and no shin pads.  He was not on his way to play shinny.  He was wearing hockey gloves to keep his hands warm.

He was wearing hockey gloves to keep his hands warm.

At this point, I am beginning to wonder. Is it just my bus that attracts this level of unusualness?  Am I the only one seeing these things?


About Anthony

I am: equal parts rebel, romantic and shockingly average Joe. a writer trapped inside of an ESL teacher's body. an introverted attention seeker. a teacher who hopes one day to be called "Captain, my Captain." an intellectual who can do some very dumb things. a person whose Japan experience, despite being so long ago, still exerts a strong influence upon him. a lover of books, music, beer, hockey and Pizza.
This entry was posted in Aspirations, Reflections, Perfection, Aurora, blogging, bus, characters, clothes, commuting, fashion, hockey, Viva and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to Why I Couldn’t Talk To The Woman With Purple Hair

  1. Sarah Warsi says:

    Wow, hockey gloves to keep warm – now that’s a first! 🙂 And perhaps you’ll cross paths with the attractive, purple-haired lady again. 😉

    • Anthony says:

      I have come across several very attractive women on the bus, only to never see them again (and I even resorted to putting up a post on Missed Connections for two of them). This time, I am going to be positive and say that the Universe will make it happen.
      Thanks for your encouragement.

  2. Pingback: Of Masks and Men | Today's Perfect Moment

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