I love working in Harvard Square
I was bringing lunch to Whuffle when I saw the following.
A group of young students, Freshmen by the look of them, were clustered near the entrance to a restaurant in Harvard Square. I suspect they were waiting for tables. The square is infested with them today as orientation and the start of classes looms. Several of the students had people who were clearly parents or grandparents with them.
Among the people mulling around was a short, thin woman wearing a light, baggy yellow shirt and some sort of fishnet bra underneath. Paired with her short skirt and high heels she achieved a stunning mixture of tantalizingly exposed skin, tarty attire and inexplicable tastefulness. She was with an elderly man who had to be a grandparent. He was hovering, protective and suspicious. He was muttering to himself, occasionally glaring at the men who checked the young woman out. This required a considerable degree of glaring.
I was slowed by the crowded sidewalk and the plethora of students who appeared to think the street was for pedestrian use only and were thus unable to comprehend that the cars in the street wanted to progress. A few moments after passing the pair I heard a yell of "YOU!"
I turned to face the sound. The old man was pointing at a couple of young men who appeared to be upper class-men.
"Pardon?" one of them said.
"You're one of the perverts eying this girl. You leave her alone!"
The young man and his companion looked at each other and then dissolved in laughter.
"What's so funny!" The octogenarian defender of virtue yelled.
The two men forced themselves to calm down, looked at each other, and kissed. A chuckle ran through the crowd and I heard someone say "She's not his type." Someone else said "Awww, how cute."
The old man nearly deflated, and the young woman took his arm and lead him away, no doubt find another place to eat.
A group of young students, Freshmen by the look of them, were clustered near the entrance to a restaurant in Harvard Square. I suspect they were waiting for tables. The square is infested with them today as orientation and the start of classes looms. Several of the students had people who were clearly parents or grandparents with them.
Among the people mulling around was a short, thin woman wearing a light, baggy yellow shirt and some sort of fishnet bra underneath. Paired with her short skirt and high heels she achieved a stunning mixture of tantalizingly exposed skin, tarty attire and inexplicable tastefulness. She was with an elderly man who had to be a grandparent. He was hovering, protective and suspicious. He was muttering to himself, occasionally glaring at the men who checked the young woman out. This required a considerable degree of glaring.
I was slowed by the crowded sidewalk and the plethora of students who appeared to think the street was for pedestrian use only and were thus unable to comprehend that the cars in the street wanted to progress. A few moments after passing the pair I heard a yell of "YOU!"
I turned to face the sound. The old man was pointing at a couple of young men who appeared to be upper class-men.
"Pardon?" one of them said.
"You're one of the perverts eying this girl. You leave her alone!"
The young man and his companion looked at each other and then dissolved in laughter.
"What's so funny!" The octogenarian defender of virtue yelled.
The two men forced themselves to calm down, looked at each other, and kissed. A chuckle ran through the crowd and I heard someone say "She's not his type." Someone else said "Awww, how cute."
The old man nearly deflated, and the young woman took his arm and lead him away, no doubt find another place to eat.