Serious Serial Love

Living in a major city like Boston, driving is always a great way to see new people. You can check out the people crossing the street, making the distinction between the city's personalities simply based on how they act at an intersection. There are the "Rebels," as I like to call them, who laugh in the face of jaywalking laws, crossing in the midst of oncoming traffic, daring someone to hit them and pay their tuition with a hearty court settlement; the "Suits," self-absorbed businessmen and women, who step into the street too distracted by their blackberries to notice whether cars are moving or not; the "Crossfit" – a little humor as we are talking about fit people crossing the street – the runners, who stretch on the sidewalk when they have a stop light, but make it clear that they do not appreciate waiting, as they continuously jab the Push-To-Walk button on the light post. However, out of all the city walkers I have encountered, my absolute favorites to watch are the goody-two-shoed "Tourists." I know you've seen them, or maybe you've been one; someone who stops at the light and, when preparing to cross, makes sure that they are perfectly aligned with the crosswalk, too afraid to step even an inch out of the protective lines. Everyone can spot a tourist from a mile away because in a city, someone who patiently waits to cross a street sticks out like a sore thumb, and those are the ones I like to pick.

Having been driving for nearly an hour, I was ready to give up on my people watching, as no one had peeked my interest, and I was in no business to waste more gas and increase my carbon footprint. I was just about to make my way out of the city, and people watch elsewhere, when I saw a striking figure. A short young woman – maybe in her early twenties – with long, curly black hair and a face that definitely screamed lost tourist stood at the crosswalk patiently waiting for a green light, and I knew she was the one.

Hunting her down was easy enough. I simply parked my car at the nearest meter, and chased after her. After slowly lurking behind her for minutes, I finally mustered the courage to walk next to her and ask if she was lost.

"I am actually." She said in the sweetest voice, "Do you think you could tell me how to get to the T? I'm trying to get a train to Salem." With that I knew she was mine.

I make a face at the mention of the T. "You don't want to take the T; I promise you. That train is constantly breaking down, and at rush hour, it will take you hours to get there. But, I'll tell you what. I'm actually going to Salem myself; I can drive you if you'd like."

Looking hesitant, she responded, "I'm not so sure how comfortable I am with ridding with a stranger I met in a city I barely know."

Flashing her my brightest smile, the one that no girl can resist, I reassure her, breezily saying, "Don't worry, I only bite, if you ask me to."

Looking even more uncomfortable, the girl turned her head, as if looking for an escape route.

Quickly, I raise my hands in surrender, "Bad joke? I'm sorry. I promise I'm not a creep, you can call anyone in my contacts for reference." I smile sheepishly at her, and watch as all her defenses fall and a smile appears on her face.

"I believe you, I don't need a reference."

And with that, I had her in my trap. Little did I know that she had trapped me too.

Two serial killers together in a city, the possibilities are endless; however, somehow I know that we will make a great team.