You hear about this stuff all the time -- a mutterer, a babbler with some facial drooping on one side lurches up to you smelling of bacon and wearing what appears to be an inflatable raft, blurts something about a blog, tries to take your picture with a fake camera, blames the difficulty on the cold-paralyzed battery and proceeds to "warm up" said "camera" by fondling it. When will it end? This whole unpleasantness could have been avoided if she'd had a convincer with a big clip, n'est ce pas?
Unarmed as she was, and super friendly to boot, Becca is used to crazies because she lives in LA and was in town for her job, which is digital marketing for Red Bull. But she's from Minneapolis! And she loves winter! And will be back here some day! Despite the fact that every time someone came through the door of the St. Paul Hotel just behind her, an icy blast blew in and withered every potted palm instantly. Nevermind cuz, completely without warning, the camera went off and captured a crude image of her sweet out-of-production business-cool perfed Doc Martens. Squint.
Whoa. Stop squinting. As I was heading back to my burning trash can thinking what a nice hotdish of a girl she was, I got an eyeful of this edgy 'do. Which just goes to show, she may have lost some hair in the earmuff zone but not her pragmatism -- duh, cerebral cortex fully haired over and insulated. Everyone knows that.