The Color Purple

In the past few weeks the color purple has repeatedly popped up in my life. First I became embroiled in a nasty battle with one purple-clad Christine Dupree. Next I unearthed a missing purple corset inside of a dusty trunk stashed in my friend's warehouse. Then, after a night on the town, the following episode occurred:

A little over a week ago I was riding the Metro home from downtown Los Angeles. Around 11:30pm on this Saturday night four young men in their late teens boarded the train and it became immediately evident that they were looking for trouble. They surveyed the half empty car and then spread themselves around it. I turned my eyeballs toward the window and felt grateful that I was carrying less than $50 in my wallet. As the doors of the train closed the crew of thugs began examining the faces of everyone in the immediate area and joking loudly among themselves. One of them, who was wearing a purple shirt, eventually targeted a kid who was sitting by himself and looked to be about 14-years-old or so.

"Are you alone?" the guy in purple asked the kid.

The kid would not answer him or look at him - he merely stared into space, careful not to let his gaze rest on anyone or anything in particular. His vacant eyes did not reveal any emotion beyond what may have been a faint glimmer of steadfast hope. Maybe he was praying.

"Are you alone?" the same dude in purple demanded of him again and again, his voice and body language growing more ominous each time he repeated the query.

The remarkably stalwart young man held up really well under the pressure. He displayed neither fear, nor interest, nor any trace of animation whatsoever. Only the taut stillness of his body conveyed the impression that he was listening to the words and registering the implicit threat which they contained. All of a sudden the bully in purple shifted his focus to another teenager who had just entered the car at the next stop. This new passenger wore an AC/DC T-shirt and an obligatory pair of ridiculously baggy pants. The color red seemed to be something of a motif in his apparel: his T-shirt had a red outline around the AC/DC logo, red fabric of some sort hung out of one of his pockets, and his shoes bore red markings on them. He chattered away on his cellphone, seemingly unaware of the attention he had engendered in the other occupants of the train. I think everybody but him knew that something really bad was about to happen in his life..

This week you can read the rest of the above story, behold the stunning conclusion to my brawl with Christine, and also see my brand new Deep Purple gallery (featuring my long lost purple corset) inside the Members' Area of TanyaDanielle.com. Don't miss out - join now!


XO Tanya





***