16 June 2006
New Target Market
I wriggled my way into an aisle seat on the train the other day. I had my bags stacked on my lap and politely tried to neatly tuck all extraneous clothing underneath my legs so as to keep to my space.
I pulled out my book. I was engrossed. And then I felt the arm hairs of the man sitting next to me tickling my left arm. It was admittedly okay at first-- mildly nice. He wasn't sweaty which was already a bonus with a train-seat neighbor. And then strings starting being thrown across the pages of my novel. No, the vines in the plotline were not coming alive and out of the book. It was from the man next to me.
I glanced suspiciously out of the corner of my eye. He was in his late 30's, maybe early 40's. His sideburns were slightly grayed and I could tell he probably woke up later in the morning; he was 3 hours shy of a 5 o'clock shadow. I shifted to his lap, the source of the string-toss. It was a daisy and he kept holding it up in front of him every few minutes to assess his careful work, but I was suspicious that he was secretly courting my opinion. "Hmm," I thought to myself with a scowl. He was needlepointing.
I pulled out my book. I was engrossed. And then I felt the arm hairs of the man sitting next to me tickling my left arm. It was admittedly okay at first-- mildly nice. He wasn't sweaty which was already a bonus with a train-seat neighbor. And then strings starting being thrown across the pages of my novel. No, the vines in the plotline were not coming alive and out of the book. It was from the man next to me.
I glanced suspiciously out of the corner of my eye. He was in his late 30's, maybe early 40's. His sideburns were slightly grayed and I could tell he probably woke up later in the morning; he was 3 hours shy of a 5 o'clock shadow. I shifted to his lap, the source of the string-toss. It was a daisy and he kept holding it up in front of him every few minutes to assess his careful work, but I was suspicious that he was secretly courting my opinion. "Hmm," I thought to myself with a scowl. He was needlepointing.
