And half of those happened today while I was buying books to read while on my Italy/Greece trip. I'll tell you about one of those incidents.
First things first, I was hanging out in the Fantasy/Sci-Fi/Manga section 90% of the time so I was probably asking for it. Even though I am one of those people, the majority of my 'type' of people I guess you would say, still manage to scare the living daylights out of me.
Anyway, on to the weird stuff.
So, weirdest conversation with a complete stranger: It started like it has been doing a lot lately - this chick thought my shoes were cool. And I'll admit, they are pretty dang spiffy, so I grinned back and fired off the usual, "Yeah, they're awesome," hoping she wouldn't be able to think of anything to say after something like that (I know I never can). But, as fate would have it, she was one of those people who always has something to say. She noticed I was holding a Ray Bradbury book and immediately started nattering on about him. She gushed and ranted and raved and I just kinda stood there, shifting awkwardly and nodding at what I assumed were the right points.
So far this was turning out to be the average conversation I have with strangers (i.e.: I stand there and nod while they do all the talking). I tried all the tricks to give her the hint that I really didn't want to talk without being rude (surprisingly enough, I'm very polite to people I don't know); I checked my phone for the time, kept throwing glances over my shoulder, ect. Apparently she didn't take hints very well.
So about five minutes of this one-sided conversation later and she switched subjects like Bond doing a U-turn in an Aston Martin, and suddenly we were talking about my clothes again. She grabbed my right hand to "get a better look at my ring". She continued talking about me, and it took me a whole ten seconds to realize she was hitting on me. My brain instantly starts slamming through the file cabinets looking for the FLIGHT order of the Fight or Flight response. I'm honestly three seconds from pretending that my phone is ringing and answering only to find out my non-existent Great Uncle Jerry just flipped his golf cart doing donuts on the golf course and is being rushed to the hospital for emergency hip surgery when the chick's Mom/Sister/Friend/Partner in Crime (I honestly don't remember how old this person was. I was sort of panicking and I was being touched by a strange woman.) shows up and tells her they need to go.
She waved bye to me and laughed, and my brain collapsed in relief, panting like a flogged racehorse. I counted to 500 before I left the aisle and then hightailed it to the check-out. I even drove home fast. I was going like 85 down the freeway and about 60 down L.
So, basically, I'm never going to B&N alone ever again. It's dangerous. I get touched by strange women who hit on me. And I don't like it.
1 comment:
OI! YOU SPELLED MY NAME WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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