Details

I wish I could adequately describe the woman I sat near tonight while in Borders. The height of irony is that, while at Borders, I was studying a book called Dynamic Characters - how to create and adequately describe people.

She was sitting at the table in front of me, directly in my line of sight. Upon seeing her face for the first time, the word that came to mind was "vacuous." Like someone who had taken one too many valium ... not enough kill consciousness, but certainly enough to erase anything worthwhile.

Her husband was altogether her perfect match. It was frighteningly stereotypical, and made me giggle out loud. He was in his late forties, although desperate not to be. He was tall, with dark hair that had silver running through it. The belly was a bit paunchy, but nearly hidden underneath his tailored black leather jacket - which would have been very handsome on a man half his age. He carried himself with an arrogance that to me spoke of considerable insecurity.

I immediately imagined him as the sort who has a mistress on the side, and a sleek Porsche in the garage.

As for the mistress, I nearly couldn't blame him. It would take me less than an hour in the presence of his wife before I'd beat her even more senseless.

She was much younger than her husband, and nearly seemed younger than me. She had short-ish brown hair, and I suppose it was styled. Sort of messy... She reminded me (in the face) of a less-fat but more-vacuous Kelly Osbourne. Her eyes were really big and brown, and her face was expressionless nearly the entire time she was at Borders. It was spooky.

They were behind me in line at the cafe, so I had safely returned to my table before they came to theirs. She sat down, talking a mile a minute about Frank Lloyd Wright, and he reluctantly sat next to her. What really caught my attention, though, was that the man gruffly commented that he was unhappy with his coffee. The next thing I notice is that he's gone up to my buddy behind the counter, loudly demanding a new coffee, because the coffee he'd been served didn't have foam that was fluffy enough.

At this point I laughed out loud.

I watched the woman flip pages of her art book and audibly comment to herself. It was fascinating. At one point, she thought of something she wanted from the cafe. Instead of walking over to her husband, who was in line at the cafe, her strident voice rang out through the entire store. "Dean! Oh, Dean!" [pause] "Dean!" [pause] "Oh, Dean!"

It's not as if Dean couldn't hear her. We could all hear her. The people down the street at Starbucks could hear her. In the end, she resignedly lowered her hand, which was raised as if signalling a waiter, and pouted like a child until he came back.

That's exactly what she reminded me of. A child. A young girl, pampered and spoiled and unaware of the world around her.

When he returned, extra-foamy coffee in hand, she began chirping away like a brainless bird again. He sat in his chair, drinking his coffee and completely ignoring her.

Around 10p, they decided to leave. Instead of waiting for her, he walked purposefully towards the door. To get there he had to pass my table. He nearly made it, too, until her voice rang out again. "Dean! Be a gentleman! Come here and help me with my coat." She stressed all three syllables of "gentleman" and her voice was quite petulant when she saw he'd walked away.

He paused midstride, stiffened and rolled his eyes. And then dutifully returned to the table to assist her with her coat.

This exchange was so caricatured, so over the top, that I was riveted. I thought people like this only existed in books and movies. But no. I was wrong. And highly amused, for at least an hour.

Blinking,
michelle

Posted by Michelle at January 18, 2003 12:05 AM