Out Of Uniform...

A young guy was crossing the street in front of my car while I was stopped at the light. He was 16, maybe 17, with long purple hair, droopy oversized shorts falling down below his ass; his shoes looked like Frankenstein boots...high and huge. He shot me a look of contempt as he crossed, I was straight society while he was some kind of a rebel. He was so young and so silly, I'm sure he wanted me to be shocked or disgusted. But of course he was just doing the same thing every generation of young people tries so hard to do: make a visual statement of his rejection of the values of “straight” society. He was an individual, unique in this world., no uniform for him, thanks. I remembered 50 years back when I wore long hair “like a girl” and ragged jeans held together by silver buttons and ZigZag patches. Now here I was again, reincarnate, unique, one of a kind. That's when his friend passed by, catching up. All long purple hair, droopy oversized shorts falling down below his ass, and shoes that looked like Frankenstein boots. Unique, one of a kind, no uniform for him, thanks.