Any strange person who makes me laugh is in the "safe" zone of strange. There are a lot of these people in the world and I, for one, am grateful for them. These people are the ones who are constantly pushing the boundaries of what most people consider normal and some of us secretly wish we had the guts to live on that side of life. They may end up on the AP for the strange things they do, but no one said being an entertainer was easy!
Then there are the strange people who are on the scary side of strange. You know, the ones who hang out under the darkest tree branches and not only talk to themselves but have screaming solo arguments as they wander the streets? I work in the city so I get to see a lot of these kind of people every day. I happen to think they are fascinating, but you won't catch me offering to drive them around or take them out to dinner. This kind of strange requires a safe distance at all times.
At the post office this morning, I encountered a man who was somewhere in between safe-strange and scary-strange and by that I mean that Dude made me laugh for a minute, but only because there was a SLC police officer nearby and I could see his department-issued gun holstered to his side.
Do I have your attention?
Imagine me minding my own business at the post office. I was there to pick up the mail but because it is the beginning of the school year, there was too much mail to fit in our box so I had to go to the counter. I hate going to the post office counter! The lines are long, the clerks are slow, and I never think to bring my phone in with me so I am completely disconnected as I stand in The Line That Time Forgot for what feels like AGES! As soon as I opened the post office box and saw the yellow slip of paper (the equivalent of being sent to the principal's office) I knew I was done for. I hung my head and trudged to the counter, with the dread of it following me like an unwanted shadow.
As I joined the ranks in line, I smiled at the fully outfitted SLC officer who was there to mail his wedding invitations. He was making the usual comments a man in his situation might say, "Yep, finally my turn to take the plunge, I guess. Yeah, we should probably get the L O V E stamps, I just know she'll ask me about that later." I was grinning to myself over the cuteness of it all when suddenly things got interesting.
Not Spike turned to me and exclaimed loudly, "OH MY GOODNESS! You smell GOOD! Whatchoo wearin, Jump On Me? I'm fron New Yawk and buh-leeve me when I tell you that I KNOW a fine scent when I'm near it!"
At this point I was looking around nervously, but laughing at the enthusiasm Not Spike was showing over my Tommy Girl perfume. I smiled and thanked him, thinking it was a nice compliment and that I would go back to wondering how many phone calls I was missing as I stood there in the Line Of The Lost, but Not Spike had other plans as he continued to make a spectacle of me.
"You need to tell your husband to quit letting you outta da house smellin' like that or you gonna get kidnapped and taken to lunch! You'll be wined and dined and stolen from him completely! Hoo-ee!"
"You have a really nice laugh!"
Uh.. yeah. I've been sick for three weeks and my voice sounds like a bad imitation of a Chevy Nova in need of a tune up. Not Spike's loud voice has caught the attention of Police Groom who glanced my way as he took his L O V E stamps to the counter to mail his satin-white envelopes.
"Have you been to New Yawk?" I nervously shake my head and wonder if my Durango keys would make a good weapon. After all, the policeman can't stand there putting L O V E stamps on envelopes all day.
Finally it is Not Spike's turn at the counter and he informs the clerk that he needs to check his box. The clerk asks for ID and the name on the box. Not Spike actually takes the ID back to read the name on it before answering what name is on the box? Holy weird! The clerk even wondered about that strange behavior as he teased the man about not knowing his own name. Not Spike explained that sometimes they put the box under different names. Care to join me in a WTH?
I was totally convinced at this point that Not Spike was an actual kidnapper and I was in danger.
I was studying details about Not Spike in case I needed to give a statement later when the clerk came back and said there was no mail in that box. At this point the normal thing for Not Spike to do would be to leave the post office. Apparently normal wasn't on the agenda though because he actually looked around and walked the OPPOSITE direction of the exit which put him directly behind me as he browsed greeting cards.
I told you it was strange!
When the clerk waved me over to the counter, I quickly handed him the yellow slip that started the whole nightmare and cursed silently as he walked to the back at a turtle's pace. Knowing that Not Spike was still in the lobby (apparently very interested in greeting cards), I found myself irritated that Policeman Groom-to-Be was having a small wedding because he had said he only had 42 invitations. 42! My protection would be long gone by the time I picked up my mail and made it to the safety of my Durango! I could hear the greeting cards being shuffled around behind me as if they were amplified and broadcast on a loudspeaker.
Finally the clerk slid the bin of mail across the counter to me. He must have thought I was the strange one as I hastily grabbed the bin and made a dash for the door. I caught the Policeman jerking his head my way as if I had just robbed the place.. but I didn't slow my pace. If Mr. Policeman wanted to follow me just then, I would have welcomed the escort to my vehicle!
I didn't look back as I rushed to the safety of my SUV with automatic-locking doors. Whew! As for Not Spike? While I appreciate the compliments on my Tommy Girl perfume, I don't know what to think of the scary-strange demonstration. I think he should get a creeper award!
Maybe I should mail him a greeting card instead.
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