Friday night Micah mentioned us going to dinner and a movie with Ben and two of his friends. The movie they wanted to see didn't much appeal to me. It was something about two guys who do a pub crawl and fight robots. Instead, I opted to see the new funny film "We're the Millers" on my own since it started about the same time as their robot flick. I was a little bit early and was the first one in the theater. I chose my seat and settled in. A few minutes later, a biker clad bald man standing about 6'4" walked into the theater. He looked at me, smiled, and said, "Finally, we're alone." In response, I lightly chuckled and continued browsing my phone. I just assumed he was making a socially awkward joke. In reality, he probably was. But his joke became a bit creepy when he chose a seat right behind me out of the entire empty theater. Finally, others began filing into the theater and I wasn't alone. By the way, the movie was really funny.
Saturday Micah and I journeyed to the great land that is Ikea. I've been in serious need of a dresser. Seriously, most of my clothes stay in laundry baskets after being washed and dried. But I digress. We had a fun afternoon exploring Ikea, window shopping designer stores in Bellevue, and eating dinner at our favorite Seattle restaurant. While Micah wandered into the Apple Store to play with the newest gadgets, I stepped outside to drool over the sparklies at Tiffany & Co and the buttery leathery goods of Gucci. (Sighh..). While window gazing, a lady side stepped beside me and whispered something a bit inaudible. I asked, "Excuse me?". While talking through the side of her mouth, she repeated, "So you the one from Craigslist?". I was a bit shocked. I looked around and everything seemed to be business as usual. I told her no and she looked around as well before disappearing back into the crowds. In retrospect, I wish I had responded, "Are you a cop? You gotta tell me if you're a cop." But witty comebacks for strangers never really hit me on the spot. I don't know what about me says, "I'm shifty." I have no idea what the craigslist ad was for. But with the lady's apparent secrecy, I assume it was not so great. But why meet in such an upscale locale? I'll never know.
Another time, while I lived in Jonesboro, AR attending college at Arkansas State, I lived in an apartment that my friends deemed the "treehouse" because it was basically a crappy wooden building in the trees. We had a dumpster on site for tenants to put their trash. One day, my friend Leslie was helping me clean out the place. She's the best organizer I know. We collected a bag or two of trash and walked them to the dumpster. As I'm throwing the bags in, a man (seemingly homeless) comes from behind the dumpster to say, "Hey baby! I mean, ma'am. I'm crazy!". Yes, that last part could have gone without mentioning. As I turned to seek security in numbers in Leslie, I notice that she as already begun to run back to my front door completely leaving me at the mercy of this lunatic. So, I tossed the bags in the dumpster and quickly followed her back up to the treehouse apartment. Les is a great friend, but if you're ever in a situation with a mentally unstable homeless person, you're on your own.
Lastly, while trying to recount all the insane encounters I've had, I'm reminded of the time I got my hair trimmed and styled before Leslie and Jonathan's engagement party in 2007. My friend at the time who was styling my hair was managing a salon in the mall. As an employee in the mall, I usually used the employee entrance doors to get in instead of using the main mall doors. This time was no different. I went inside, got my hair looking great, and was leaving through the same narrow corridor in which I had entered. In front of me was an employee of Cinnabon (I only know this from her uniform) walking with another woman. I was about ten feet behind them. Suddenly, the woman stopped walking, hiked her right leg, and farted so loudly that it literally echoed off the concrete walls. Stunned, I just stopped mid step in silence and awe. I couldn't believe it. Seconds later, once the shock faded, the stench settled in my throat and airways. I couldn't avoid letting out an audible gag. The Cinnabon girl and the gassy gal turned around to see me. Ms Flatulence apologized repeatedly and only made the bad situation worse by explaining that she had eaten shrimp for lunch. And shrimp "really plays a number" on her gastrointestinal system. I could literally taste that atrocious shrimp fart until I finally made it outside. I know what people released from prison feel like. Fresh air never ever felt so great.
So, really, where do these people come from?! Really? If you're one of them, reevaluate things like social etiquette. I'd be happy to suggest some reading material. And, by the way, if shrimp makes you uncontrollably gassy, order the steak.
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