PULL OVER !!

Lesson: Don't be afraid to walk around with a letter in your pocket, for fear of forgetting to put it in the mail. You may just see a postal courier from your car window about to cross the street and you can just drive by drop off the letter.

[ I once carried a letter in my coat for 3 weeks until one day after a meal, pupils dilated speech slurred I spotted a postal service courier standing at the cross walk. I suddenly shouted PULL OVER! DO NOT let that postal courier cross! We rolled up like gang busters. I whipped out the letter and handed it to the postal courier. Then we drove off.]


Lesson: Don't sit alone on a gallery bench in the company of small french children. The french are wildly sensual and know no age for flirtation, you never know when a 6 year old might come on to you.

I once went to a gallery opening with my partner. It was a beautiful day and everyone was out gallery hopping. We had stopped an interesting looking exhibit when we both noticed a kind of film area, with a reel playing as a part of the exhibit. My partner walked to the back wall and stood there to watch the film. Since im smaller I sat at a bench right in front of the screen, which was really only okay because it was apparent that I was not going to obstruct the view of even the shortest person standing along the back wall.

the bench was empty when I sat down but as the film commenced a small boy, with a rat tail hair cut sat next to me. I LOVE KIDS, but even i know that in a dark gallery where a film is being viewed is the #1 place not to try and entertain random children with googlely faces, unless you want to look like a pedophile. So with that in mind i sit on this bench, minding my own business watching the film when all of a sudden i feel something wet on my shoulder I look down and the little boy had his lips affixed to my shoulder!!! I of course start looking around as i know that the 10 other people present had to know (a) i don't know the kid and (b) i did nothing to incite the kid to kiss my shoulder. Talk about feeling like at any moment some angry mother was going to swing on me because as far as she knows she only saw her son peck kiss the shoulder of some random brown woman. But that didn't happen. When i turned around frantically for some sign that the others saw everything -mainly that I did nothing to make this boy think that his actions were welcome or okay - I saw what I immediately thought was a Parisian woman, who smiled at me. I felt awkward about smiling back given the context of the interaction, but something said I could smile back so I did. At the moment when I smiled back she spoke in French rather authoritatively and wave her arm at the boy who finally took his lips of my shoulder smiled and scampered off behind what I can only imagine was his mother. OO the French.


Lesson: Don't make googlely faces at the children of mothers who look perplexed, because the source of the confusion may become distracted and fixated on you.

[ I am obsessed with babies. Not in a scary R.Kelley or Jon Bonet Ramsey abductor kind of way, but rather in a more "aww goo-goo gaa-gaa" kind of way. Well one day, on the 125st AC/DB platform, I stood awaiting the arrival of the downtown A train. Having just left work I was a bit frazzled, but excited and relieved. Just as I descended the stairs to the platform I saw the cutest baby ever! She was maybe 3 and just look like a dog-gawn precious moments doll baby. I smiled at the baby careful not to look like the harbinger of "stranger danger" and looked away quickly.

The problem with being obsessed with babies, however, is precisely that you cant stop looking at their little faces. THe more they drool and make incomprehensible sounds the more one would like to tickle, make faces, and raspberry their little tummies. (okay so i obviously am not tickling or rasberrying any random kids on the train cuz that would be rather suspect but you get the idea.) IN ANY CASE, the train comes so I think I am saved from myself, but no I am followed onto the train by the mother, baby, and granddad (or at least I think its the grand dad given how close he was playing the mom, and his visibly gray hair).

Trying to minimize any attention that I might attract to myself by blatantly making googlely eyes at this baby I put on my head phones and look down. I forget for a second where I am and look up, In my upwards glance I catch the eye of the "grand dad" who smile at me. Still feeling awkward since I am the stranger smiling at "his" grand baby, I smile back and look down again.
Just as I resolve myself to retaining my downwards glance for the remainder of my trip I see the "granddad" walking towards me. At that point I realize this "granddad" is dressed in construction attire, and has fresh plater and drywall clinging to his Carhart jumpsuit. He sits down next to me, mind you im sitting in and EMPTY four seater, right next to me in such a way that i am now wedged in between him and the sidewall of the seating row.

Trying not to judge or assume what is going to happen next. I smile and turn to him, and with an intentionally surprised and restrained look I say, "why hello." Then he smiles, setting free the tangy spirit of some alcohol now eternally resting in his gut. I cringed at the rusty smell. (Did I mention he was like 60 + years old)

Anyway he says, "You know when I man sees flava he has to recognize it. And you are flava." I was stuck thinking -WOW... did this fool just refer to me as flava? The only thing I could think to do was tell him I was under age since im rather short and sometimes get cardedI figured it was a non threatening way to get him to leave me alone. Having complete faith this was going to work, I say "thanks, but Im too young to be having this conversation with you." Not even slightly daunted by my statement, he says "well how old are you? you got to be at least 18, and thats legal." (WOW this fool is like 60 plus and he like well 18 is old enough we know he does not suffer from E. D.) Realizing I got a live one here, I say "actually im 17 so im not even legal."

He says, "17... well when will you be old enough to fuck? 18 cant be that far away."
(cue drum roll and cymbal! We got to give him points for delivery, shock value, and the seemless transition from im sure hitting on the mother of a three old with child present, to hitting on me.)