Wednesday, March 1, 2017

The devil doesn't wear high heels in NYC - #Ugandan in #USA


By Owomugisha Regina

My feet are killing me. God knows why I thought I should wear high heels today of all days. Sometimes one ought to have a bit of sense. See that's what we take for granted. That if one knows something they have sense whether to do it or not.
I have to soak my feet in Epsom salt so I can get relief. Anyway it was for a good cause and to prove it I will post a selfie. So you guys don't judge. Talk of judging people by what they wear! This morning I got on my bus.  Cool as cucumber. Make up, Check, Stilettos, Check, Red scarves that has initials from some fancy designer check.  As usual messy me I forgot my ear rings but my head price will cover the ears.  I know seeing my selfie you all will say good effort sista.
The bus was not busy because I caught the 5.00 am to Friendship Heights.  I wanted less attention to myself.  Nicely cleaned up and all that.  I didn't want some people on my usual bud to think my bank balance is bigger than it actually is.  The other day my nosy doctor asked is I do exercise! I said yes sir I run through my money like a drunken sailor.  Anyway on to the bus, we got to the Kensington stop. understand that stop is where the Have and Have Not begin boarding the bus because it's next to Fancy Chevy Chase. That the place where you know people have money because you can see the size of the houses.  So at this Kensington stop some disheveled person gets on.  Pulling a big piece of language but his clothes telling a whole other story.  He wanted to sit without paying but the driver wasn't having that kind of compassionate spirit.
He looked into the many pockets of his coats and got his fare paid it and decided to sit where all of us could have a proper look at him.  He opened his coat and started searching through numerous pockets of his coat.  Then he started pulling out money. Twenty dollars here. Five dollars here. And yes fifty dollars from another pocket. Mind you he is looking at all of us to show that he too has money but we don't give him the time of the day.  It’s your money.  I am sure all of us on the bus are thinking.  Some lady from a diverse culture who was seated in the third row must have looked direct into his eyes. You never do that on the bus unless you know someone. The money counting guy proceeded to tell this lady a few choice words.  If I write them here, Facebook will reconsider our nice relationship. The polite one words were whatchu, looking at me for. B.....h what do you think I am?
By this time all of us were worried that he would pull something else out of the pockets apart from the money. I was starting to regret why I was in fancy shoes in case I have to make a run for it. All of sudden he stopped and asked someone next to him of the same colour. How you doing? We all relaxed. We knew he wanted to make a point about clothes don't make a person. Also not to be judged like he didn't have his fare.
By the time we got off the bus at Friendship Heights the storm had abated.  And here I was thinking 5.00 am buses have no drama. I had to cross the street towards Neiman Marcus to catch a different bus that will take me through George Town. I almost took off my shoes on almost count of the pain but the money counting guys is heading my direction. My heart missed almost count bit as I thought of where to run just in case. Mercifully when I looked back he was making a beeline for MacDonald’s. I guess to spend his money.
Trust me, I will stick to my 6.00 am bus. This way too much drama. Today I am going to the Opera with Fabian. He told me to look that part. I can imagine the look on her 80-year-old face when I walk through the door. And don't get me started on the concierge. Today is my day.
Now for the selfie.

http://nangalama.blogspot.com/2017/03/the-devil-doesnt-wear-high-heels-in-nyc.html

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