Harry

Sometimes a particular image crosses your line of vision and the only logical reaction you have is to stare at it. Of course, you can just turn the other way, but you can't. Your head snaps back, wondering what the hell is going on. It's like a traffic accident: violent, ugly and a total mess.

This happens to be one of those visions.

Not wanting to miss my train, I run across the street, avoiding streetcars. Unfortunately, it's inevitable that you will come across some pedestrian walking so slow, they're moving back in time. Swiftly, I dodge around these people, since I can't move through them. Someday, Steven, you'll have that power, I think.

Near the apex of my destination, I come across my vision. My living, breathing car wreck.

Harry walks in front of me, the same speed as me. It's impossible to walk past him, and I don't feel like running around him. I should, but don't. He mesmerizes me. Totally. And, for all the wrong reasons.

You see, Harry is follically challanged. Challanged in the way that hair sprouts everywhere below the neck. His head is shiny and freshly shaved - no nicks. He has no sign of five o'clock shadow. Fine. No problem, right? Wrong.

While sporting an olive green tank-top, you see the mess that Harry is in. Although sparse, the hair on his back resembles the hair on my head. Long and shiny hair. Frightfully disturbing. He's groomed from the neck up. Neck down is another story.

Harry certainly isn't embarassed about his situation. He has no problem walking around town like this since he has no visible farmers tan. I am not saying he should go out and wax his back, and Epilady his ass. The bear look exists in society, but I've seen it done so much better. And, with conviction. Harry's look comes across as half-ass, not full-ass.

Alas, what can I do? For I am only one man. One man in a bloody hurry to get to his train.

I don't want to look at this, any more. I run past him. I can't miss my train, but I have already bypassed a car wreck.