It's probably a sign of ego that I had a moment of fear for my life this morning.
I was standing in line at the post office, which I do nearly every day, when a stranger began to talk to me.
There are no words, none at all, that can explain the scariness of this man. I could tell you he was about 5'10", greasy, wavy hair, wearing about 4 body braces, including two on the wrist and elbow of the same arm, and wore tennis shoes that looked like S&M gear with white socks pulled up around his calves. Early to mid 40s, I'd say. He belonged off the street and into Howard Stern's Whack Pack. Easily.
I could feel his energy as soon as I entered the room, and considered hanging to the side of the line until some other sucker would stand behind him - giving me a buffer. But, now, that would be silly. The line was long enough already.
In swift fashion, he yelled at the postal workers standing in the next room over. They ignored him. So, this rebuffed and spooky fella immediately turned his spit towards me. "SomethingSomething about how this all sucks...then onward blather about working on a commercial in the heat yesterday but his real job is as a mechanic...blah blah, he has a boss...blah blah, here's his business card because he repairs computers in his spare time." And I'm thinking - "Buddy. With a line like yours, how is it that you have spare time?"
And, yes. I took his card. Because if they found my body in a ditch, they would go through my things and realize the last person I spoke to was a very scary man named Nathan who fixes computers, works in a garage, tries to hit on polite, helpless women, and thinks movie extras are all big whiners that he has to babysit in super-hot Los Angeles weather. He, and He alone can face the blazing sun like he faces those deaf postal workers and bitches like me.
In the end, I nearly THREW my package at the woman behind the counter, so I could beat Nathan outta the joint. Then, I scurried to the wrong end of the parking lot because I'm stupid. Eventually I found my car where I left it, feeling like I escaped death somehow.
I don't understand why Kevin called me a Drama Queen on Sunday. Such a mystery.
So, Richard (if you're reading this), NO. DO NOT EVER ATTEMPT TO TALK TO A WOMAN YOU DON'T KNOW. We will brand you a psycho, amuse your conversation so you don't kill us, and then write about it in exaggerated and righteous language in our online journals for the world to see.
It's just not worth the risk.
