So this past winter, right? Bossy and her friend Martha had just attended a free concert on a Friday afternoon, and like every other Friday following a free concert, they found themselves on two barstools at the train station knocking back some condiments.
This particular train station bar features classic bar table seating on the inside, and cafe seating on the outside, except it’s not really an outside because it’s still inside the train station — for those keeping track at home that’s an inside and an outside and an outside and an inside, and who needs a gah on the rocks?
So anyway, Bossy and her friend Martha were situated around their usual inside bar table looking through the window at the outdoor cafe tables inside, when Bossy said, “That gentleman has what you call classic good looks.”
It was his salt and pepper demeanor, mostly, very laid back with a certain understated power and air of success:
Martha mulled Bossy’s comment for a minute and then announced, “Yeah, well, I like his socks.”
Bossy hadn’t noticed his socks, and quite honestly it was sort of a deal breaker for Bossy — but Bossy was swept along with Martha and her interpretation of the gentleman’s sense of confidence to wear socks so red. And all was copacetic at the bar table belonging to Bossy and her friend Martha.
Until Bossy’s friend Martha tapped on the window glass to get the gentleman’s attention.
“I like your socks!” Bossy’s friend Martha mouthed through the glass when the gentleman finally looked up.
The gentleman looked perplexed, and not just a little worried about the pink-haired lady on the other side of the glass. “Your socks, your socks!” Bossy’s friend Martha repeatedly mouthed, pointing downward past the man’s lap. “Nice socks!”
The gentleman shifted in his seat and grew more uncomfortable as his law firm partner looked on in bewilderment and Bossy’s friend Martha continued with the motioning. “Socks,” she mouthed again, drawing the word out and pointing steadily downward.
It was at this moment Bossy realized that a word like socks, when mouthed through a bar window, looks to all the world — and two senior bank executives sitting at an outdoor table inside — to be sex.