meet george jetson.

last night i was walking home over the 45th street bridge, crossing the street where cars exit I-5 and people stand holding cardboard signs, hoping for money from drivers as they wait for the light to change. there were no cars, just me walking. this man approached me with his sign that said "aggressive beggar." i recognized him. when i was waiting for the bus on easter, he was drunk and telling me how he thinks of the jetson's theme song every time he walks across the bridge and sees the space needle.

"sorry, i've got nothing." i didn't have anything i could give him. no food, no money, i meant. he walked beside me and rolled his eyes, "you've got nothing! hah! you've got nothing!" i thought the point was to make me reconsider the meaning of those words, to think about how false they are. and they are. but that's not what he meant.

he looked me up and down. and up and down. and up and down again. and said it once more. "hah, you've got nothing. yeah right. let me show you what these kids gave me." as we walked he pulled a magazine out of his bag and opened the pages in front of my face. naked women. naked women which huge breasts, naked women touching their vaginas. and he said it again, "and you've got nothing." "i don't want to look at that," i said. "don't be offended. these kids gave it to me." "well, i am offended." "well you shouldn't be. look!" he flashed the magazine in front of my face again. this blonde woman with red fingernails and a vacant look in her eyes. i said goodnight and kept walking and he yelled at me until i got to the next light and the sound of his voice was drowned out by the sound of the freeway (which i've accidentally been pretending is the sound of the ocean lately).

it's funny because right before that i had been thinking of my little sister. about how she'll be the only redeeming part of my trip home. i was thinking about how the last time i saw her she was 11 and now she's 13 with boobs and a cell phone and photos of herself wearing giant sunglasses on myspace (which says she's 19 and from idaho...). and about that time we were talking on the phone and she told me she was going to get her belly button pierced because now she's "skinny enough." and about how for graduation she jokingly gave me a razor because she thinks it's super gross that i don't shave my legs. and i was actually getting hopeful that maybe she's old enough to understand that i'm not gross and maybe mature enough to understand that you can love yourself even if you're not skinny if i presented it in the right way...and i was getting sad because she probably doesn't hear those things enough. she doesn't. i didn't and maybe i've failed as a big sister for not saying them enough. anyway, here i was scheming about how to turn my little sister into a feminist in seven days and brainstorming about how to not scare her and push her further into the depths of small-town ohio culture and conservative evangelical christian ideals when this man approached me and shoved fucking porn into my face.

and of course i felt angry. his eyes staring at my body through layers and layers of clothes somehow made me feel ashamed of what was under them because i've felt ashamed of what was under them for years and years and years. and if that single interaction could instantly bring all of these insecurities to the surface in me, what if that had been my little sister?

not fair not fair not fair not fair.