Class conflict, DC-style

Saturday afternoon, I was taking the S2 back up to Adams-Morgan. The bus was packed, as it was a hot and oppressively humid day, so everyone was trying to avoid any extraneous outdoors activity. When we stopped at a red light at 16th and R, I saw to my left a BMW convertible. Driving it was a guy who looked like Gordon Gekko on casual Friday. He had carefully tousled and gelled hair, square sunglasses, and a pink Lacoste shirt, with the collar flipped up. I think it was this last item that really irritated me the most. I realize that the preppy look is back, but jebus, take it easy already.

The worst part were his shorts. They were this weird navy blue pair that almost looked like swim trunks. Maybe Biff thought it'd be safe to throw those on, since he'd be sitting down and presumably out of the sight of most passer-bys. However, he failed to reckon on the bus, aka The Proletariat Chariot.

Just when I was thinking, "Man, those are dorky shorts," the guy two rows behind me opens up his window and shouts out, "Hey! NICE SHORTS!" Everyone in the front half of the bus started snickering, since he was just saying what we were all thinking. Even better: the light stayed red for what had to be an uncomfortable 30 more seconds, so people who'd missed the prepster's shorts got a chance to look out the window and laugh at him. As soon as the light changed, the BMW revved into high gear and zipped around the bus to prevent any future comments.

The big-mouth's girlfriend was laughingly chastizing him, saying that the BMW driver was going to be scarred by the people on the mean bus. The guy chuckles and says, "I couldn't help it. They were just so goofy-looking."

Residents of 16th Street, be warned. The Fashion Police are out there and not afraid to use ridicule in their pursuit of a well-dressed society.