I have often in this space spoken of various subway encounters - perhaps too often. But recently I found myself in close quarters with such a unique specimen that I have been haunted with the knowledge of her mere existence ever since. An individual whose tastes reflect such a radically different set of thought-processes that she and I may as well belong to different species. Indeed, I think it only too likely that she is in fact an alien, clumsily bumbling around in her stolen skin-suit, managing to be just convincing enough to escape certain vivisection but still inspiring shock and fear in all who gaze upon her.

Picture this, then, if you dare: a female in her mid-to-late twenties, much like myself. Imagine a much-too-small pink tube top with matching pink capri pants, worn in November and crowned with perfect skunk highlights. Then add pointy shoes (pink), the inescapable Victoria’s Secret bag (also pink), and a pair of those hideous insectoid sunglasses of the sort favored wholly unappealing creatures (pink). Now, if you can manage it, insert a brown Zune - only the second I have ever spotted in the wild. And finally brown lipstick in the same repellant cat-shit shade. It’s almost like this being was specifically engineered by some sinister force to destroy my brain.

I am reminded of various Lovecraftian protagonists who, upon facing ancient and indescribable horrors, immediately went mad or killed themselves, or both. I think either would be preferable to living out my days with the knowledge that such people not only walk the earth but also take the F during rush hour.