Last year in Europe, I had a few run ins with creepy men, most notably the numerous Mozart men who never failed to acknowledge the presence of girls passing. After returning to the states (love that I can say that), I can't say I missed them too much. In fact, getting caught up in junior year, I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to hear those German comments as I walked by.
That all came back to memory last week when I was in Williamstown, Massachusetts.
Williamstown houses the lovely, amazing, dream of a place, Williams College. The town is tiny, but pretty. It seemed very much shaped by the nearby college.
Anyway, Williamstown was the first time of the trip we had even a second to breathe. We got there right when the light was pretty, so I headed out with my camera, which I had been lugging around the whole trip without taking a single picture. [I started my 3rd photo blog for my summer assignment for my photo class. Check it out if you're interested in the fruits of my walk http://hannahsummerassignment.blogspot.com/]
Anyway, I was walking along stopping frequently to take a few pictures. I stopped with my back to the road in front of one extra beautiful New England home when a car full of guys drove by, honking and shouting. I jumped a little, apparently having forgotten how surprising it is to be honked at. It doesn't happen that often in Sandy, Utah.
I continued on, undeterred, and shot more pictures. I guess I should have known better than to be wearing a skirt, because I got honked at 6 more times. I think Williamstown forgot to instill manners and class into their young generation of men.
I was getting over the honking when one car pulled up on a side street and started talking to me. He was an apparently nice guy from New Hampshire.
"Hellllllo fellow photographer" *shows me his point and shoot camera and tripod
"I just drove by and saw you taking pictures and thought I'd say hi. You know, I'm in Williamstown and I'm so bored."
"Yeah, it isn't very big."
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm looking at Williams college."
"Ohhhhh cooool. What kind of camera do you have there? Is that a D90?"
"It's a D300."
"Is that one with a large sensor?"
"No, my dad wouldn't get that one, it was a few thousand dollars more than the D300. But it's still a really great camera to shoot with."
"Right. I just use my little guy here. It's a G7" (editors note: G7 are really nice little point and shoots, old and nothing compared to D300)
"That's cool. Nice that it's so compact."
"Yeah. Soooooo, would you maybe wanna go to dinner?"
"Yeah, um, sorry, I can't"
"You sure? It's just I'm in Williamstown and I'm sooooo bored. It's like, God, there's nothing to do here."
"Yeah, I can't. Ummm, it's been nice talking, but I've got to get going. Bye"
"Bye" *drives off
I forgot how it feels to be hit on by a random stranger much older than you. It's a little unnerving, but equally flattering. I do hope he found something (someone) to do that night.