by Joseph McCann

Created on: October 12, 2008   Last Updated: October 20, 2008

She inadvertently bumped into me as the green line subway train came to a sudden stop at the 42nd St station. No one has ever touched me like that before, even if she didn't quite mean it. You see, she was only three feet tall. And for me at least, there was no looking back. I could see things clearly in all directions.

But don't be fooled by her size. She was strong and sturdy. With her size 12 Air Jordens, you couldn't knock her over with a souped-up Silverado. She had this propensity for cleaning up the streets. She could pick up cigarette buts off the ground without even stooping.

It was then, I couldn't help but notice the full color, Attila the Hun tattoo in his best charging mode, on the small of her back, with something written underneath in 7 different languages. Ahhh! A student of history!

Upon careful observation, I surmised she was an executive in the financial district. Or possibly a politician. She had on a petite passionate pink tank top with the slogan "Up your Fanny, and Freddie Mac too!" Imagine, not only beautiful but a social advocate as well.

Her Sarah Palin styled eyeglasses indicated an active, if not compelling mind. And then I noticed it, a United Nations gift shop shopping bag. Inside, something very hairy and very still. When she noticed me, noticing her, she smiled and showed off her shiny white teeth, the fronts worn strangely down almost to the gums. Then she looked directly up into my eyes, lifted the shopping bag and said, "Runch!"

As the subway finally came to a stop, and everyone was picking themselves up off the floor, the big doors opened and she waved and disappeared into the crowd of oncoming traffic, pushing and punching others trying to get off. It was then I knew I had to make perhaps the decision of my life, quickly.

I pushed and shoved my way out the door looking desperately for short pink. As I ran frantically out through the "in" token machines trying as quickly as I could at getting a look up the stairs to the street, I finally spotted what I was looking for. It was either someone pulling a bright pink wheeled suitcase with size 12 Air Jordens, or it was, YES, IT WAS, my petit little fleur picking up something from the stairs.

Overjoyed and overcome with emotion, I followed, keeping a safe distance so as not to be found out. This would be my secret forever. An obsession I could never admit to. I found myself being "pulled" across 1st Ave. And there she was, with him.

When their eyes met, he got down on his hands and knees, moments before she rushed into his arms. They kissed. Sort of! Then I could overhear him as he kiddingly asked, if she met anyone else on the subway the way she met him. She giggled, and in an embarrassing tone replied that she hoped not.

And then it came to me that he looked and sounded strangely familiar. I wasn't exactly sure how much more I could take, but I just simply had to figure it out.

Oh, the shame of it all. It was! How could I ever compete with the ShamWow television towel salesman!

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