In casting about in search of an amusing anecdote, it occurs to me that I've never blogged the story of Psycho Joe1. Before I became a fusty old married woman an actual adult and started doing things like attending wine-tastings at the country club with Nancy, I used to hang out quite a bit at Atkins Park, a wonderful neighborhood pub. Many of my adventures began (or ended quite badly) with, "Once when I was at Atkins Park...". It's my own personal version of "It was a dark and stormy night"2. Sooo...
Once when I was at Atkins Park, I noticed this guy staring at me from across the room, not in a creepy or leering sort of way, only every time I glanced in his direction, he was looking at me. He looked very familiar but I couldn't quite place him, which is not an unusual occurrence with me; I could see someone hundreds of times, know facts about their lives and their children, yet if I happened to run into them out of context, I'd never recognize the cashier at Publix with whom I spoke every time I bought groceries, or my mom's co-worker/bud. I kept glancing at the staring guy, wondering if I was supposed to know him and if he was offended that I didn't wave or say 'hi'. Eventually, my girlfriends noticed and started teasing me about my 'admirer' but none of them knew who he was either.
A half hour or so passed in this fashion and then suddenly my girlfriends got quiet. I looked up and Staring Guy was standing at my side holding his lager. "Excuse me," he said - quite politely, not giving off any freakadelic vibes whatsoever, "I don't mean to be rude and I don't want to make you uncomfortable keeping on staring at you, but - you look so familiar! Do I know you from somewhere? I'm sure I do but I'm sorry, I can't remember where!"
I told him I'd been sitting there thinking the same thing about him, so the girls and I scrunched over and he sat down. He wasn't trying any lame pickup lines or being touchy-feely (not that he could, with my girlfriends right there) and we proceeded to have a friendly conversation where we tried to ascertain where we'd met/knew each other. We were coming up with zilch. We weren't majoring in the same thing, we hadn't taken the same classes, we didn't hang with the same groups of people, we didn't seem to have any mutual friends, he didn't work in my favorite record store, I wasn't friends with anyone he'd dated or vice versa - nothing. Yet it was weird that we each thought the other looked familiar - and that was true, not an 'opening line' - so we kept at it but we didn't like the same bands so we hadn't been to the same concerts, he didn't live in the same apartments as my best friends, nothing like that.
Then suddenly he had an epiphany! "I know why you don't recognize me!" he exclaimed. "I used to have a beard! Wanna see?"
"Sure," I replied, as he stood up and reached for his pocket. I was sure that once I saw the photograph or snapshot, I'd be able to place him instantly, mystery solved.
I had not counted upon the fact that this was happening to ME.
Because Psycho Joe was not pulling from his pocket anything so mundane as a photograph! Oh, no! He was showing me the shaved-off beard. Which he had preserved in a Ziploc baggie and which he was carrying around with him.
I'll give you a moment. It took me several, and a snort of Johnny Walker Black.
Even with the perspective of years, I'm not sure what the weirdest part of that whole story is: the fact that he felt compelled to save his beard, the fact that he stored it in a Ziploc baggie, the fact that he carried it around with him when he went out to the pub or that he had no difficulty whatsoever in sharing this with others.
True story3.
1 - Not his real name, but his real name doesn't rhyme, and I like rhyming.
2 - Know who really wrote that? Edward Bulwer-Lytton, in his novel Paul Clifford. I am a veritable font of useless information.
3 - At times like these, I really resent Dave Barry for stealing the tagline, "I am not making this up," because all things considered, I think my life warrants it far more than Dave's does. I'd complain to him but he'd probably pull that old 'I've won a Pulitzer and you haven't' card on me, and who needs that? Honestly.
Once when I was at Atkins Park, I noticed this guy staring at me from across the room, not in a creepy or leering sort of way, only every time I glanced in his direction, he was looking at me. He looked very familiar but I couldn't quite place him, which is not an unusual occurrence with me; I could see someone hundreds of times, know facts about their lives and their children, yet if I happened to run into them out of context, I'd never recognize the cashier at Publix with whom I spoke every time I bought groceries, or my mom's co-worker/bud. I kept glancing at the staring guy, wondering if I was supposed to know him and if he was offended that I didn't wave or say 'hi'. Eventually, my girlfriends noticed and started teasing me about my 'admirer' but none of them knew who he was either.
A half hour or so passed in this fashion and then suddenly my girlfriends got quiet. I looked up and Staring Guy was standing at my side holding his lager. "Excuse me," he said - quite politely, not giving off any freakadelic vibes whatsoever, "I don't mean to be rude and I don't want to make you uncomfortable keeping on staring at you, but - you look so familiar! Do I know you from somewhere? I'm sure I do but I'm sorry, I can't remember where!"
I told him I'd been sitting there thinking the same thing about him, so the girls and I scrunched over and he sat down. He wasn't trying any lame pickup lines or being touchy-feely (not that he could, with my girlfriends right there) and we proceeded to have a friendly conversation where we tried to ascertain where we'd met/knew each other. We were coming up with zilch. We weren't majoring in the same thing, we hadn't taken the same classes, we didn't hang with the same groups of people, we didn't seem to have any mutual friends, he didn't work in my favorite record store, I wasn't friends with anyone he'd dated or vice versa - nothing. Yet it was weird that we each thought the other looked familiar - and that was true, not an 'opening line' - so we kept at it but we didn't like the same bands so we hadn't been to the same concerts, he didn't live in the same apartments as my best friends, nothing like that.
Then suddenly he had an epiphany! "I know why you don't recognize me!" he exclaimed. "I used to have a beard! Wanna see?"
"Sure," I replied, as he stood up and reached for his pocket. I was sure that once I saw the photograph or snapshot, I'd be able to place him instantly, mystery solved.
I had not counted upon the fact that this was happening to ME.
Because Psycho Joe was not pulling from his pocket anything so mundane as a photograph! Oh, no! He was showing me the shaved-off beard. Which he had preserved in a Ziploc baggie and which he was carrying around with him.
I'll give you a moment. It took me several, and a snort of Johnny Walker Black.
Even with the perspective of years, I'm not sure what the weirdest part of that whole story is: the fact that he felt compelled to save his beard, the fact that he stored it in a Ziploc baggie, the fact that he carried it around with him when he went out to the pub or that he had no difficulty whatsoever in sharing this with others.
True story3.
1 - Not his real name, but his real name doesn't rhyme, and I like rhyming.
2 - Know who really wrote that? Edward Bulwer-Lytton, in his novel Paul Clifford. I am a veritable font of useless information.
3 - At times like these, I really resent Dave Barry for stealing the tagline, "I am not making this up," because all things considered, I think my life warrants it far more than Dave's does. I'd complain to him but he'd probably pull that old 'I've won a Pulitzer and you haven't' card on me, and who needs that? Honestly.
6 Comments:
Haha! I'm continually astounded at the number of freaks that inhabit this Earth. Just when you think you've seen it all . . .
By
A Margarita, at 9:03 AM
If almost anyone else had written this tale, I would have just said, "OH, PULEEZE!" But, it's your story Helly and I know that this kind of thing really truly does happen to you.
By
basil, at 9:22 AM
I assure you it's true. I'm not imaginative enough to invent something that weird.
By
Helly, at 10:34 AM
That is unbelievable.
By
Still Trying, at 11:38 AM
But the question is, did you RECOGNIZE him with the beard? :)
cheers,
Phil
By
Anonymous, at 6:34 PM
HA! No - the only bells that rang once I saw the beard were warning bells! I suddenly remembered something urgent I needed to do elsewhere (which was order a stiff drink at Dark Horse Tavern next door, but I didn't share that with Psycho Joe!).
By
Helly, at 6:52 PM
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