Appropriate Attire

One of the moms at the first daycare center Iris attended used to dress in very tight and revealing clothes. (How else could I know what kind of tattoo she has on her lower back?) She also seemed to have a permanent case of bed head. I used to wonder where she worked, dressed like that. One day, I noticed her getting into the white mustang convertible next to my station wagon. She had a playboy enterprises parking sticker on her car. Oh. Now it all makes sense.

There was another dad who dressed like a surf bum. He dropped his kid off wearing a tank top, board shorts and flip-flops. I asked him if he was spending the morning surfing. He replied that he was heading to work. I later found out that he was a creative director at a very famous ad agency nearby. (He was responsible for the Xterra campaign that I blogged about earlier.)

Then there was the time that I couldn't locate a street address. I figured that street people spend a lot of time on the street so they might be able to give me directions. I asked for directions from the first man that I saw that looked like a street person. He snapped back something like, 'How the heck should I know?’ but only less polite. I walked on. As I crossed the street at a crosswalk, a car bumped me in the back of my knee, nearly making me crumple to the street. I turned around to yell at the driver. It was the bum driving a Rolls Royce Silver Shadow.

That's life in LA. You can’t judge people by their attire.