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LOOK, SOMEONE SHOULD pass a clothing ordinance that governs really old people wearing young people's garments.
A while back in Tropical Plaza, my nerves were jarred by a rather ancient looking woman wearing short shorts, and even though time has mercifully dulled that memory, just this week they came crashing through those mental barriers once again, and this time, they'll be there for many years to come. I am mentally scarred for life!
I may never eat breakfast again and my nervous system will be in shock until the day I die.
Normally, to evade the crush of morning traffic on my way to work, I usually detour through town. It is better, I believe, to be moving slowly towards your intended destination, than not be moving at all. On visiting Saint Maarten you would be inclined to believe that with a population of just more than 40,000 people, traffic should not be much of a problem, especially when one is arriving from a Caribbean destination like Kingston where every hour of every day is peak traffic.
However, that impression can be quite misleading, especially when you are in a country where it seems that everyone drives.
So, I am slowly making my way through town, easing my way through the narrow streets at five miles an hour, waving to the tourists who are waving back as they hustle around making purchases and sightseeing, trying to take in the Saint Maarten experience before the bellow of the cruise ship signals their impending departure to another exotic location.
Now, you know how we men are, we see a short skirt and our instincts kick in and before we can bring them back under control, our full attention has been diverted to wherever that image came from. "Switch all power to starboard engines," is the command Captain Picard would say, and it would also be the best way to describe the experience.
MENTAL SHUTDOWN
However, when my eyes responded to the mental directive, my entire being went into shutdown. At least, that was what I wanted to happen. Have you ever had an experience where you see a fruit, a nice juicy orange perhaps, and you assume that it is going to be so sweet and you begin salivating in anticipation of tasting the sweet citrus juice flowing over your tongue and into your body, filling it with wonderful life-giving nutrients. However, when you bite in, the sourness shocks the pants off you?
That was what happened when I saw who was wearing the little blue mini, striped skirt. I couldn't react fast enough. It was too late. I was doomed.
It's like someone dug up a mummy, unwrapped it and put it in a white blouse, blue mini skirt and sandals. This woman, who clearly was born in the middle of the last century, and who has somehow managed to survive all that life had thrown at her, was walking at about an inch an hour up the sidewalk, not three metres from my window! Her ancient, parchment-like skin so thin you could see the blue veins networked underneath. Her spindly legs were no better and you could see a lot of it because of the skirt, the folds of skin that were holding on to ancient bones looked like it was being melted, by time, I guess.
My stomach began to convulse and it took most of my available energy to prevent myself from puking my breakfast all over the dashboard. The experience completely ruined my day.
Look, this woman was about 180 years old and I am not being unkind to the elderly, but likewise, they must not be cruel to themselves and, most importantly, the rest of the world. I don't care if she has a positive self-image. I don't care what she looked like two centuries ago, what matters to me is what she looks like now, and it was a secret for her to keep to herself and not share with the rest of the world.
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