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Personal Essay
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Personal Essay
Johana Garcia It was a Sunday evening around 6 o'clock or so, one of the many Sunday evenings where I would cruise around with my father in the car. Though this wasn't just any ordinary Sunday sightseeing excursion with dad. We stopped at a red light, and without much enthusiasm observed the pedestrians. A woman, as she walked, fixed the white lacey gossamer slip of her dress. It dragged out of her skirt, obviously making her feel self-conscious. A short, stubby man with an overbearing gut was nonchalantly picking his nose as he ogle the lady adjusting her slip. He stared at her, as though undressing her with his eyes. I looked at my father, who was looking right back at me. We both laughed. Being only 8 years old, I was at an age where I found everything hilarious. The very fact that my father and I were looking at the same scene and probably both thinking how perverted the man seemed made me laugh hysterically. My dad continued to drive. I kept gazing at the scenery of the city, as the sun started to set and the darkness took over. Our little sightseeing trip was over, or so I thought. I was so used to the same path we went through, that when my father made an unaccustomed turn, it made me suspicious. I refrained myself from asking him where we were going because his usual reply would be, "Don't worry about it, don't ask where you're going, its where I take you okay". I had to admit it was an unfamiliar, but enchanting view. I had my window all the wa...
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