You can take the girl out of New Mexico, but the New Mexican Hippie Bullshit is still here...
Today I was waiting for the N at Union Square when a woman toddled up, just beyond me, her feet pointing out like an overstressed ballerina. She was wearing those Born clogs with loose, earthy-colored linen pants, a cropped hoodie, some sort of mini-backpack, and as all psuedo-hippies must do - she had a woman's haircut pulled back with odd little baby barrettes. I am well-versed in siting an idiotic hippie from at least 2 square miles away, considering my extensive field work in Albuquerque and Santa Fe, New Mexico.
So I scoff. Yes, I do. But I suck in the breath as quickly as I exhale it when
she starts lunging on the platform, and then begins kicking her right leg up, and pulling it sharply downward, her little Born clog slapping the ground. She lunges a little more, grabbing her right hip, gyrating a little. She must have been experiencing a massive amount of pain in her right hip - from feminist yoga or Brazilian New Yorker Nonmud Spiritual Wrestling, no doubt.
The train was taking its sweetass time, even for a $200k+/yr salaried Zen master, and so she moved away from the edge just as she'd walked up, although she twisted her hip a little more. Then she waddled away, her linen pants desperately clinging for hippie-survival between her ass cheeks, letting us all see her karmic wedgie.
2005-04-26 | 7:52 p.m.
