Helen of Troy

Today I saw a woman carrying a hamster on the subway. I should clarify that the rodent was caged and appeared to be relaxing on its wheel, however the smell of urine soaked wood shavings permeated the nostrils of the surrounding commuters. If it weren’t enough to bring your hamster along for the morning ride, this woman also wore a heavily decorated Jan Sport backpack. It was adorned with 60 to 70 beanie babies hanging off miniature multicoloured karabiners. Unable to remove the backpack while balancing the animal’s cage, she sat on the edge of her seat, for it was as comfortable as she could get given the children’s store fastened to her torso. I named this woman Frieda because she looked of German descent. She wore wraparound shades, not stylish ones, but ones prescribed by an optician to block out glaucoma-enraging sunlight. She had on a tie dye t-shirt and a long denim skirt. Her shoes were white Reeboks, well-worn, the once-white laces dingy grey and frayed at the ends. For the record, her legs (only the shins peeked out between the hem of the past-the-knee skirt and her sagging gym socks) were unshaven.