My One Prophetic Shining Moment

I have absolutely no ESP.  Like everybody I will get bad feelings and try to read into them and pretend, but overall, honestly I have no connection to the powers beyond.

However, my single prophetic experience happened in college.  Was it some kind of feeling about a close family member?  A dear friend?  My boyfriend of several years?  A dire warning or helpful sign? Nope.

I woke up one day and said to my friends, “I just had the craziest dream that Dudley Moore was dying from a brain disease.”  I got blank looks and “.... who the hell is that?”

“You know, he was in that movie Six Weeks with Mary Tyler Moore [I loved that movie], and he was in Arthur, and Crazy People?  Man, I haven’t even thought about him in years.”

Nobody really cared or even knew who I was talking about.  

Two days later, the news came out that Dudley Moore DID have a serious brain condition.

I’m just sayin’... not that I don’t love the guy as an actor, but if the universe saw fit to send me some kind of prophetic dream, I think it could have been something a little more exciting.

C'est La Vie

Way back in 2006, Leigh and I found a deal to go to Paris for only $499 a person, and it included the flight and hotel for 5 days.  We were like, how can we not take part of this tres magnifique deal?!  

Anyway, when you do one of those deals, they always offer you the cheapest flight and you can pay more to change the time, or the airline.  Our flight happened to be on Air India and the times worked.  Leigh and I figured, what’s the difference?  So we booked it.

We get on the plane and I end up between Leigh and this much older woman who was sitting by the window.  Things seem mostly okay; we watch a movie or whatever, we ate the airplane food they offered (which was curry!  Pretty good!).  Suddenly when the movie is ending the woman next to me starts holding her watch out to me and speaking to me in a language I was very unfamiliar with.  She kept waving the watch and pointing at it, so I just tried to say, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.  I’m sorry.  Yeah, I don’t get it. No, I still don't get it. I don't know. Please stop.”  But she just kept hitting my arm and then pointing to watch with a really annoyed expression.

So I turned to Leigh and went “I don’t know what to do here” so for some reason, Leigh takes the watch, changes the time to Parisian time, and gives it back.  She was like, “Maybe she just wants it updated.” (Meanwhile, the flight was stopping in Paris just to let off like, ten people.  The rest of the people were going to Mumbai and never even getting off the airplane.)

The woman takes back the watch and seems annoyed, but finally stops trying to talk to me after pointing at it a few more times.  We try to go to sleep, and just as I drift off in my seat I am woken up by the woman, who has put her head on my shoulder to try and sleep herself.  I said, “oh.  No.  No, no no.”  And she just looked at me.  I start to sleep and she does it again.  

At this point I am starting to get a little annoyed because we don’t have a lot of time in Paris and I need some freaking sleep so I’m not passing out when we land.  But I just keep being woken up and trying to use gestures to show that I’m not cool with cuddling with a strange older woman.

After getting maybe 20 minutes here and there throughout the night, they serve the morning meal.  I was like, “thank God, coffee.”  I stir my coffee and put the tiny spoon down on my tray.  The woman next to me picks up my spoon (Why?!  She had the SAME EXACT THING!) and as I stare confusedly, she stirs her own coffee, puts the spoon in her mouth, then puts it back down on my tray.  It really wasn’t cool. Needless to say, I was unable to consume my tiny plane yogurt.

After breakfast she starts to freak out a little bit so Leigh and I try to let her out of her seat; she doesn’t want to get up, she just is talking agitatedly and apparently nobody on the plane could communicate with her.  She spoke a dialect that nobody knew so she was just yelling, I was staring, and the flight attendants were trying to just calm her down.  She calms down enough, gets up to use the bathroom, and I am so ready to get off this flight.

The woman comes back and we go to let her back into her seat, but she emphatically gestures to show us that we should just shift in and take the window.  I move to the window, Leigh the middle, and the woman sits on the end.

I am like, “oh good, at least now I can look out the window and enjoy seeing Paris as we fly in!”  That thought was great for about 5 seconds, until I realized the seat stank.  I was like, “uh oh!” and showed Leigh that there was just vomit down the wall of the plane like 2 inches from me.  Leigh was like “oh, here, just cover it with this blanket and come share the middle seat with me.”  So we jam our 2 bodies into a seat and a half, and then Leigh goes, “oh God, that vomit is going to make me sick” and takes out the barf bag and starts dry heaving.  I was in hell.  

Luckily she held it together, and we landed in Paris. Leigh gets out of our row and the woman moves back in as soon as Leigh is out.  So I stand up and am showing her I have to get off the plane... she just won’t let me out.  To the point that a mess of flight attendants had to come over.  The woman was yelling and refusing to move, I was freaking out that I was going to end up in Mumbai if I didn’t get the fuck off that plane, and I was really tired of sitting with vomit.  They ended up physically pulling her out of the way so I could get off the plane.

Anyway, I mean, Paris was great.

Dead Fish Mouth

Last night, I was walking down the street towards my house and a random guy on the street stopped me and said, “excuse me.  Do you know where Path Mark is?” So I turned and pointed and said, “Yup, it’s right there.  See?  You can see the sign for it like, right there?  Like, RIGHT there?”  (It was half a block away and the sign was really clear as day.)  

So he was like “oh okay, thanks!” and I go to leave.  He stops me again.  “Oh, you know, I saw the sign, I actually was just wondering if you were Russian.”  So I was like “.....uh, no.”  

He walks over closer to me and shakes my hand.  I mean, it wasn’t a job interview so I’m not clear on why that had to happen, but whatever.  He tells me that I look just like a friend of his, and she is Russian, so he was just wondering if I was Russian too.  As established, no.  I repeat that no, I’m not in fact Russian.  He tells me he is from Paris and most people think he’s hispanic but he’s French.  Okay... And?

Him: But you have such beautiful eyes!

Me: Thanks, but... that doesn’t mean I’m Russian, does it?

HIm: But you look so much like my friend!

Me: Okay.

So then I started to leave and say, “Well, have a good night.  Path Mark.  Right there.  Enjoy it!”  I turn to try and get away.

Him: Oh are you walking back that way?

I mean, he saw me walking up the street in a specific direction.  It isn’t like I was standing still when he came up to me.  Nor was I just wandering and veering in many directions.  

Me: Yes, I am walking up there.

Him: Okay me too.  [what?  No you aren’t, I thought you were going to Path Mark?]

Me: What?  I thought Path Mark?

Him: Oh I wanted to go walk by Pep Boys.

Pep Boys?  Pep Boys was closed.  And who wants to walk BY it?  It isn’t the Macy’s Christmas window.  So he starts walking with me and I realize that basically, I am a block from my house and I can’t lose this guy and I really don’t want him following me in.  So we get up near my house, he is still talking to me about absolutely nothing, and I am starting to wonder what the best move would be.  

Him: You should take my number so you can text me and I can make you dinner.

Me: Oh, right.  [I make no move to take out my phone.]

Him: So you live here?

Me: [Staring at the house next to mine vacantly] Yeah, I live over herrreeeeeeish.

Him: Do you want to go in and have a drink?

Who the heck meets you and in 5 minutes wants to come inside your house?  Murderers, that’s who.  So I was trying to be nice enough to not have a situation on my hands, but ugh.  I try to give him helpful information, like “the train is over there!  Are you taking a taxi?  Do you need directions somewhere?” and he just won’t go.  He wants to know if I live alone.  I was like “no, actually, I live with family. A lot of people.  I’m NEVER alone.”  

HIm: awwww.

Me: Yup.

Him: Do you want to sit outside with me for a minute?

Me: I really have to get inside.

Him: I would love to see your apartment.

Me: That sucks.

Him: Can I not see it?

Me: No.

Him: Let me touch your hand.

Me: [thinking he wanted to shake hands] okay, bye!

Instead he takes my hand, waxes on and on about how soft it is (it isn’t), and kisses my hand, and starts in on my fingers.  It felt like someone was rubbing a dead fish all over my fingers. How someone could have a mouth that was so.... cold.... ick!

I pulled my hand back, horrified, and said bye.

Him: Don’t forget to call me.

Me: Sure.

Him: Did you get my number?

Me: yeah, you already gave it to me. Bye!

I just don’t know how to be meaner in these situations.  Because I always feel like when someone is crazy, it makes it worse to be mean!  Like then you’ll make them snap.  

But even still, I wonder if it isn't better than my brief foray into online dating, where I opened the app and THE VERY FIRST THING THEY RECOMMEND TO ME is this gem.

Where has he been all my life? So romantic!