So I was minding my own business walking down Jones Street past the entrance to the natural science museum, where approximately eleventry hundred field trip kids were waiting to board activity busses back to their small towns in far-flung counties.
"Look! That lady has pink hair!!!" I heard them squeal as they started taking my picture.
This. This was my punk-rock moment. This was where I was supposed to shoot double birds with a cigarette dangling from my lips.
But I didn't. I was very mature, because I hope one or more of those small-town kids saw me and aspired to move to Raleigh and be a weirdo, like I did on my own 8th-grade class trip.
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