This isn’t a run of the mill blog post for me. It’s about the weird shit people do every day, usually just to mess with complete strangers. Sometimes it’s nefarious. Sometimes it sounds nefarious. Most of the time, it’s just people doing weird shit for giggles, their own giggles.
I’m a member of the Fraternal Order of Eagles. My local is a huge dart supporter, so we encourage dart players to apply for membership, most do. I’m not an active Auxiliary member because that would require me to go to meetings which bore me to tears. And I am not comfortable sitting in bar chairs for very long with this hip. Also, I’d need a ride because while my husband is also an Eagles member, he doesn’t go to meetings, even when I go to meetings, he often doesn’t.
This is important because my first example is set here in the ladies’ bathroom. I had been talking to an Aux member about food arrangements for a tournament or benefit, I’m not sure which now, I just remember we were talking about food. It was not life or death. It wasn’t even all that important because we had decided to do the standard food offerings the week before; burgers, hot dogs, french fries, tenderloins, toppings available… Nothing fancy or time consuming.
Anyway she had been talking to me for over 30 minutes for some reason. I had walked that direction because my bladder was in desperate need of emptying. I tell her I’m going to run to the restroom real quick and then I’ll be right back to finish our conversation. I get in the bathroom, take my seat, and in she comes… Still talking about the food that had been decided on already. She talked the entire time I used the bathroom, washed my hands, and then walked out. Then she looked at me as we headed back across the club floor and chastised me for not drying my hands. She had been standing in front of the paper towel holder… There was no need or reason for her to join me in the ladies’ room. We finished our conversation about 20 seconds after I left the bathroom. All in all, it was a bit weird.
My second one happened when I was much younger, maybe 20. I know I wasn’t 21 yet because I was in a bar for a concert and I didn’t get a wristband at the door. I am in a stall because I drink too much fluid in the course of a day and my bladder needed to be emptied before I joined the mosh pit forming on the tiny floor in front of the stage. I believe I was in Lawrence, Kansas at a small club to see KMFDM. It was either that or a small club in Kansas City, Missouri to see either KMFDM or Type O Negative, those were two of my go to bands at the time (still are if I’m honest). Bathroom is packed and mostly nasty like only a public restroom can be. I hear this woman crying somewhere in the bathroom, but I don’t do drunk girl drama, especially not at clubs where my favorite bands are about to take the stage. She starts sobbing, I mean hard, I can hear her hyperventilating she is crying so hard. Then all of this sudden, this black boot slithers under the stall wall and touches my Doc Marten’s. I go to rock concerts prepared, I don’t wear heels, I don’t wear tennis shoes, I don’t wear sandals… I wear serious boots with rounded toes and steel plates over the toes and in the sole. She attempts to play footsie with me for a moment. I stand up, done, flush, and leave my stall. This woman comes out, she had to be in her mid-fifties or so, she has mascara streaks all down her face, her lipstick is seriously smeared, and she is wearing the tallest heels on a pair of boots I have ever seen, which is saying something. She looks at me and says “Oh, you’re a girl.” Yep, it’s a ladies room. She proceeds to tell me that her boyfriend had just broken up with her and told her she was a slut and she had thought because of my boots, I was a guy…
My final one happened when I was sixteen. So we went backwards in time from newest to oldest. Oh wait, I have another… we’ll come back to it… I was sixteen and had driven myself to school. I had an old beater car. I had paid half of the purchase price which was $100. It was 1995 when I bought it and $200 back then still didn’t buy much car, but it ran just fine and I loved it. A little Grey Nissan Sentra that had been wrecked a handful of times by the previous owner. Nothing serious, mostly cosmetic damage. I was parked in my assigned spot, because we had assigned parking spots at my high school for a small fee. I am leaning against my beater car talking to someone I knew. We weren’t friends, but we were friendly acquaintances, she had the spot next to me and we had a few classes together. It was lunch time and we had open campus lunch so we could leave at lunch. Her and I were standing there talking when a guy I was friends with walked over to us. He stood next to me for a minute and listened to her and I talk then he suddenly grabbed me and kissed me. I was floored. We didn’t have that kind of relationship and neither of us wanted that kind of relationship. So we leave for lunch because that was the reason he had come to my car. We pull away from the school and he apologizes for kissing me, I tell him it’s fine, but he can’t ever do it again, at which point he tells me he won’t, because he didn’t like kissing me. Fine. Not once during the rest of our friendship did he ever explain why he did it in the first place. It is still a mystery to me and I’m not even sure he knows why he did it.
Ok, so the missed one. In 2006, my bestie and I went to Germany for my birthday, best trip ever by the way. I was turning 26. She’s older than me and has had good jobs my entire life, so she paid for part of the trip because I was a broke ass college student. We had both taken a semester of German and we had both read up on German culture quite a bit. We didn’t want to be those tourists. One of the things we learn in our culture study is that Germans don’t touch strangers. There is a tray that you put money in at stores and if they are giving you change back, you wait for them to remove their hand from the tray before you reach for the change. No problem. Neither of us are real touchy feely people. Oh and everyone is painfully polite which is awesome. Day 3. I am in line to buy tickets to enter a museum, possibly the Pergammon. We went to a lot of museums and they were all awesome, so my memory has become a little fuzzy on what day we visited what museum. I’m sure it was the 3rd day of the trip because we had gotten used to people not touching, even on a packed UBahn. I’m in line by myself because my friend wanted to sit (we rode the UBahn in the mornings and walked back to our hotel in the afternoon/evenings.. a little backwards maybe). I’m in line and I feel someone touch my hair and I turn around to talk to my bestie and it’s this guy I have never seen in my life. He instantly started apologizing to me in German. Eventually he tells me he has no idea why he touched my hair, he was admiring it because he thought I had the most beautiful hair he had ever seen and the urge to touch it had become so overwhelming he had. It was very surreal. After a handful of days of not touching anyone in Germany except occasionally my best friend, this stranger had touched me and then panicked over it. Also the dude touched my hair, it wasn’t like he touched one of my lady bits. I can handle having my hair touched, even by strangers in Germany. He was very apologetic though. I had trouble communicating to him that it was okay, I wasn’t mad, just a little surprised. He spoke some English and I spoke some German, so it was a fun exchange of broken English and broken German. However, I will never forget him. Even 12 years later, I could pick him out of a line up. It really left an impression simply because it wasn’t expected and it didn’t happen for the rest of the trip. Germans are so polite, they ask before they sit next to you on the UBahn. We were on a mostly empty train on the UBahn one afternoon and a group of four or five younger than me at the time people got on the train and asked if they could sit next to us. The reason they wanted to sit next to us was they heard us speaking English to each other. Berlin is my favorite memory.