June 25, 2000

On the subway, coming back from the Mermaid Parade at Coney Island, there were two girls, about 16 years old, sitting across from me. I'd just spent a good 12 hours with J. and her friend T., and I was in exhausted cranky bitch mode, thus I thought it would be best to leave them to their own devices as I pouted on the end of the bench. It was as I was doing my excellent impression of an overtired 2-year-old that I noticed these two girls.

One was sitting up, directly across from me, and the other was lying down on the bench with her head in the first girl's lap. The sitting girl had dark brown hair pulled back into a very neat and clean ponytail. I am always astounded when I see such perfectly smooth pulled back hair, because I work my ass off to get the bumps and hills on my head down to about three or four. Anyway, she had a very nice ponytail, and either eyes or eye makeup (or both) that looked exactly like Britney Spears. Disconcerting, yes? Disconcerting, yes.

Britney had freakishly long fake nails painted something I might call sea foam green if, in fact, I ever called anything sea foam green. Two of her nails had broken off. She was wearing a tight black tank top, grey sweatpants that fit tightly in the thighs and flared out at the ankles, and really ugly multicolored Nikes. Also, lots of gold jewelry. Gold hoops (two in each ear), gold necklace, and a big honkin' gold ring that had a word like "love" or "peace" or "kitties" molded into it. She seemed very high-maintenance, Britney did.

The lying girl, conversely, was blond and wore very little, if any, makeup. She had on a purple tank top and jeans, with one of those $3 belts with the three rows of holes running all through the leather that you can buy on the streets of New York. Her nails were cut -- or possibly bitten -- very short, and they displayed no polish. She had on hoop earrings also, but they were silver, as was her bracelet and her funky black-stoned ring. Lying girl bore a striking resemblance to Reese Witherspoon.

So, Reese was resting her head in Britney's lap, and Britney was playing with Reese's hair, which was down. They were both looking at a strip of photos they'd had taken in a photo booth that day. "You look really pretty there," said Reese, pointing to the bottom photo. "I don't think so at all," said Britney, really meaning it. "No, seriously, " confirmed Reese, "I think you look good." And then, from Britney, "I'm so glad we're best friends."

Throughout all this, I had just been watching and listening, drinking in some shots of teendom for the millennium, but when I heard that "best friends" line, I started to tear up. Yeah, I was hot and tired and cranky and hungry, but it wasn't just that. I just suddenly really missed being in high school and having "best friends" and lying down on the subway with your head in your friend's lap and looking at photobooth photos from Coney Island.

And they were talking about boys, and Britney was playing with Reese's hair -- twisting small sections of it very tightly, "like cornrows, but not," and then executing a very complicated braid concoction, that, quite honestly, looked pretty bad. Reese checked herself out in the window of the train, and you could tell she kind of thought she looked like a dork, but she didn't tell that to Britney. They were best friends, you see, and you just don't hurt your best friend's feelings like that. So, instead, Reese kept poking at certain hair protuberances until Britney took the hint and tried, unsuccessfully, to fix them.

They each noticed my watching them at separate times, and each of them, separately, smiled at me. That broke my heart the second time. First, the best friends thing. Second, the cockeyed optimism. I mean, smiling at me? Well, smiling at anyone who's staring at you on the subway, really, but also, smiling at me? I can't remember what it was like to be that young, and to have my hair played with, and to just…to not have to worry about stupid adult crap.

Actually, yes, I can. And that's why I got so depressed.

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