The organizers did not count on the razor sharp timekeeping that Metro keeps.
A train showed up - but it was not the 222. We jumped on and then jumped off. I noticed how we followed anyone who looked like they had a clue. We were newbies on the pants less thing.
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The regular subway riders seemed - bemused. In Los Angeles weekend subway riders are people who have to use mass transpiration to get from A to B. They are for the most part working class or the elderly.
A subway comes in - the crowd makes it choice and jumps on.
As soon as get on three Metro employees, two African American and one Latina are deeply amused and inquire about the point of a purely pointless exercise.
“Are you protesting increased tuition fees?”
The question took us aback but we did not show it - both of us are in our early 40’s.
“No, not really”
I begin to think that I needed a better response. The out of context “put on” was detached from any moral meaning. And I look over the person who got me into this - she has a shirt partially covering her underwear. In the context of people much younger, she more then holds her own.
Mindful of the picture taking I ask the woman to take a picture of the two of us. She exposes a set of braces and with a slight smile she takes a couple pictures.
Me and my companion look around - the next stop brings more riders who are pant-less.
She peers around and asks me how many stops are there left? A few - the next two will bring in more pantsless people and then four or five stops till we get to Hollywood and Highland.
She nods over to the exit door - “I want to check out the next cab”
We bolt out of the door at the stop then run over to the next cab. It has the feeling of a mad rush trying to time the door opening and closing. We jump from on to the next car.
Getting in just in time we dive to the next car - diving to hold onto the metal pole before the subway starts. I dive forward and she breaks away from the metal pole - not the thing to do. I grab it and then the subway lurches forward. The forward momentum caused us to get off balance. I clumsily brace her upright.
“That last cab was kinda - dead” - he said.
A women is to the left of us. She is wearing a pair of aqua sweats. Without any affect she takes them off.
“Did we get a convert?”
She turns around - no her friend was supposed to do this with her but did not make it. Conformable - she did the deed.
I look around. It feels kinda - normal. You acclimate to a mass strangeness quite quickly.
A few of the men who are not the slender build side (bears) are wearing things like Incredible Hulk tightys, I Love Sluts t-shirts or near Speedos with hefty bulges and hairy exposed body parts - but even those kind of guys are not being obnoxious about their physical presence. They are not leering or generating creepy vibes toward the women. Its as if a consultant advised what look would give a look that implied offensive, earthy passion - and yet it seems to be all show for the most part. Or maybe the look makes the nature of the guy self evident and takes away the element of surprise. The youth helps make the lines grayer.
The adjustment to this new reality was quick.
I do admit some of the sites in my field of vision was inspiring feelings that were not on the pure side. In a way by putting the "male oppresses female via visual objectification" on the table - neutered it to some degree, the unspoken desire to provoke helped in that regard.
Within the pantsless subway context at least.
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