On a blustery Friday morning while riding the A train all the way up to Dyckman street for a morning to be spent outside in the fudging cold measuring the ins and outs of a dilapidated building, my poor dehydrated chapped lips screamed at me in thirst. I searched for my lip balm. I searched through both my ginormous purse and the ginormous bag I was carrying with all the architectural survey tools. I searched through all my pockets (4 on my coat, two on my hoodie, and 4 1/2 on my jeans). No lip balm. Lots of good an EYELASH CURLER does for me at 9 a.m. when my lips are about to fall off my face. Oh gee, I' m glad I had my Sally Hansen Super Shiny topcoat nail polish, because that always proves to be FAR more useful at any given moment, RIGHT?

Anybody who knows me realizes why I felt as if I was thrust into an alternate universe.

"Deanna, without ANY sort of lip balm on her person? Clearly the planets are out of alignment. Its a sign from the heavens that the world is about to end."

I always have at LEAST two on me, but usually four. Two Chapstick brand lip balms (classic and rasberry flavors) and two Perk brand vegan lip balms (hazelnut and amaretto flavors), hidden away in coat pockets and purse pockets. But this awful morning, I had none. Zero. Zilch.

At the 168th street stop (which by the way was my first stomping ground in the big city- holla up at Washington Heights yo!) my frustrated eyes and fingers simultaneously found the Revlon "sparkling champagne" gold glittery sheer lipgloss in a small pocket of the red lining of my purse. NOT exactly the balm my lips were starving for, but beggars can' t be choosers. Besides, I might as well have shiny sparkly lips while surveying, eh?

As I twisted open the tube of the slick pretty stuff, somewhere near me, a man' s voice interrupted the little party song running through my head to celebrate the happy occasion (Lil' Mama' s "Lip Gloss" song...oh don' t pretend you don' t know the chorus "Whatchya know ' bout me? I said my lip gloss is poppin' , my lip gloss is cool "..."I be luvin' it, I be usin' it, on my lips")

"You don' t need none of that miss."

The spongy applicator was poised and ready to smear gold glittery goodness and moisture onto the desert wastelands that were once my lips.

" ' Scuse me, miss?" I paused, just as the applicator was about to touch, and looked up. I met the eyes of an elderly black man sitting diagonal of me in the near empty train car. He wore a big puffy black coat. He wore dirty baggy jeans and construction work boots. A sheepskin lined red plaid lumberjack hat with ear flaps sat lopsided on his head. A grey wool scarf hung loosely around his neck. His dark eyes smiled and a thousand creases filled the corners of his eyes. His mouth was also smiling to show big white bright teeth. His face was stubbled with salt and pepper. He held his black leather gloves clasped between his hands in his lap.
He leaned forward toward me.

"Miss, you don' t need none of that." I blinked. What? Errr...My brain raced to assess the situation.
1. Crazy creepy dangerous man- RUN
2. Crazy creepy harmless man-IGNORE
3. Crazy non-creepy man-SMILE but TURN AWAY
4. Non-crazy-non creepy man- RESPOND.

"Uhm..." I blinked again and glanced at my lipgloss and then back at his smiling face which was apparently waiting for something more than the dull "Uhm..." that had just breathed out of me.

"You pretty enough as it is. Let it be."
He leaned back against his seat,content, and smiled even broader, which seemed impossible. But there he was, a stranger all bundled up against the cold, sitting across from me on the train with a smile big enough and bright enough to beam up Scottie.

In an instant I was outside of my body and looking at myself from his vantage point. My hair was a matted mess due to the hat I had shoved on my still wet head. I had barely slept a full hour thanks to freakish tearful nightmares that woke me up throughout the night. Puffy bags hung under my eyes ready to be filled with suitcases that could hold the weight of the world in tears. I hadn' t eaten for about 20 hours and probably looked as weak as I felt. The cold air had temporarily flushed my face red but in the aftermath left me pale and sickly. It was breakout season on my face so the pale was punctuated by fabulous red dots. No makeup had been applied to hide any of the deviant flaws on my skin. I had spilled my earl grey tea with milk on my coat early on in the train ride (just after Penn Station) and a wet spot had spread along the right coat sleeve. I had also just spent about six train stops frantically looking for lip balm, digging, and digging repeatedly into my purse, bag, and all my pockets like a desparate squirrel looking for her buried nuts.

I slowly returned the applicator to its rightful place and twisted it shut. I slid the gloss into my coat pocket. Giggles erupted from somewhere in my tummy and I could barely say,

"Thank you. Thank you. I appreciate that sir. I guess I don' t need it!"

The stranger nodded.
"No, no you don' t need it. You don' t need to be messin' . You pretty enough as it is I say."

He looked away to end the conversation and seemed to study the flashing darkness outside the train windows.

I sat and read my book, unable to focus on the words, as I tried to stifle my giggles and also ignore the aching pain in my parched lips.

This man, this kind gentle stranger, had thought I was trying to pretty myself up with my sparkling champagne gloss and had taken it upon himself to assure me that I didn' t need it. I wasn' t giggling because I thought it was silly. I was giggling because I was so happy that I could' ve cried at the simple act of random kindness. I was giggling because I was so overwhelmed by his sincere words, I couldn' t defy him and had put away my lipgloss even though my lips were flaking off like a snake' s shedding skin.

I let it be because I was pretty enough as it is.