Fatale Abstraction

police sting nabs flashers on NYC subway

Are flashers dangerous, or just stepping in to fill a void of blog fodder?

I went to Chicago once with a classical vocal ensemble and we went to a tony suburb to the north to rehearse in front of a high school's music students before our big concerts. On the way back to our hotel downtown, we stopped in Evanston to let a couple violinists and a pianist off at Northwestern University to practice. The violinists and the pianist both had international competitions upcoming, and rehearsal space had not really been arranged for them for our trip.

Several hours later, they wrapped up at Northwestern and hopped on the local train system to head back downtown, I suppose that would be the EL.

The violinists were two Korean girls, and the pianist was a brilliant young musician from Russia who I was privileged to have accompany me on a regular basis. A Muscovite, Natasha is a shy and quiet person who lets the piano do her talking. In fact, they were all three very nice and rather sheltered girls who enjoyed a cloistered existence because of their exceptional degree of musicianship.

Heading to downtown Chicago during rush hour is apparently less crowded a trip on the train, and they handily found a bench seat side by side and facing the opposite side of the train. A man got on the train and sat directly opposite them, letting his overcoat fall open to display a vista of wedding tackle arrayed like a bowl of fruit.

Of course they all three noticed and were inwardly freaking out but acting like they didn't notice and not reacting. No doubt, the minute they were out of sight/earshot of the offending person, they dissolved into paroxysms of giggling embarrassment...

When I was about 13, I was walking to school and I heard a big whistle from somewhere behind me. It was very cold and the sun was rising toward my back, and when I turned around, everything looked sparkly, like the trees and houses were diamond encrusted with the sun shining through their coating of ice. It was very bright, but the back of the house from whence the whistle had come was in shadow, so it took my eyes a second to adjust. There, framed in all his naked glory stood the (little did I know) magnificent form of the star of the high school football team. His hair was russet, and the carpet matched the drapes. And the hairy gorilla underarms.

He was probably stoned and thought he'd give someone a thrill. I turned and walked swiftly onward to school. I wish I had a photograph to show you. After that, I took a longer route to school which didn't involve walking past that house.

I didn't tell my dad, because I just thought it was retarded high school boy antics, and my dad would have put a world of hurt on him. And his dad.

Best Halloween costume I've seen was a guy from Dallas named Gary Wendt - a real character. He dressed as a flasher in overcoat, etc., but strapped a camera to his midsection with a spring-loaded device and caught a picture of everyone's reaction as he pulled open the overcoat from his seeming unclothed body. (there were shorts underneath, thank goodness). Like a big old goober, apparently my photo turned out the best, with a look of amazed delight on my face as I looked expectantly at his crotch. No matter what my face said in the photo, I was very relieved when he had on shorts. I actually expected him to have an array of cheap watches for sale when he pulled open the coat.