stick a tail on it and call it a weasel.

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24 february 1997

10:04 p.m.

Dear diary, Is there a wind-chill factor in Hawai`i? Far be it for a tropical creature such as myself to complain about the "cold" in February, but geez... I had to wear a jacket on top of a sweater on top of a shirt today to keep my arms from freezing off. I've noticed something. When it's hot, pretty much everyone on campus dresses the same. Shorts and shirts, tanks and skirts. When it's cold, though, you've got at least two distinct fashion camps. You've got the thick-skinned, who look no different in February than they do in May. Most of these people don't even own jackets, let alone carry them around for the occasional chilly day or expedition into Hamilton Library. Most of them laugh at the thin-skinned -- like myself -- who bundle up in ten pounds of clothes and whimper while fighting our way up a gusty hallway. Pitiful souls who wear socks to bed three months out of the year, when the mercury drops below 70. I think if you just looked at a picture of a random crowd milling around outside Campus Center, you wouldn't be able to tell if it was ninety degrees or forty. Subject one? Dressed like an eskimo in a blizzard. Subject two, meanwhile, barely passes as dressed. We of the thinnus skinnae species also get stuck with the formidable challenge of not looking too cold in order to keep random business majors from throwing their coat over you in a chivalrous gesture, then follow you around campus for the rest of the semester. (And the one time I actually hoped a guy would take pity on me that way, he called me a wimp. There's no justice, I tell you.) There must've been something funny in the water today... two guys asked me out at work. First, a courier came in right behind me to deliver a milk-carton-sized box that felt like it was filled with soggy Play-Doh. I signed for it, he studied my signature carefully, then said, "Could you add your phone number too?" Of course, this was thrown at me before I could settle into my "dark biting wit" work mode (let alone my "on Planet Earth" mode), so perfectly innocently I looked at him and asked, "Um... what for?" He laughed. I laughed nervously. For a split second I figured I'd managed to dodge an akward moment, 'cause it looked like he thought I knew what was up and was just playing cute. Then he looked like he figured out I really was clueless. A few more empty chuckles -- the kind that say, "well, that was embarassing" -- and he spun and marched out. He didn't look my type (not that I was looking), but damn... he at least deserved some credit for acting like he actually liked a girl bundled up like a bag lady. That encounter, I concede, was handled badly. Then, lo and behold, it turns out heavy white box is supposed to have gone somewhere upstairs. Figuring it was either a comfy elevator ride or hunting for shoestrings, I opted to take a trip. After the delivery -- reluctant as I was to leave the opulence that is the Queen Emma Tower -- I barged into a "Empire Strikes Back" conversation at the front desk. Not thirty seconds into it, suddenly all the staff vanish down assorted corridors and I'm left chatting with a much older Filipino guy. Thirty more seconds, and I get, "What time do you get off shift? You want to get a cup of coffee or something?" "Oh, thanks but no," I said, realizing my lack of practice in these situations was pretty depressing. "What, you have a boyfriend?" he said. I threw together the most mysterious, sneaky look I could and said, "Well, you could say that..." A relieved sigh on both our parts, and we chatted a bit more. He said he worked at a restaurant in Waikiki and that I should come by sometime. Just for the boost he gave my ego, I probably will. Though I can't sound honest any way I say it, I really don't get flirted out that often. They say guys come out of the woodwork only when you're taken, but at least in my case it hasn't been true. I think we just get more self conscious about it, and in my case I was only becoming painfully conscious of my blah-ness. So though it's pure, unadulterated gloating, today's adventures made me feel pretty good. Then again -- as the ever clever Derek mused when I related the day's tale -- maybe the charm was on whatever was in the box.