Photographic Evidence.

Here is the photo that my friend took of the creeper that I described in the post titled Imagine. Don't forget to ZIG ZAG!

Imagine.

Imagine having a pleasant Sunday brunch with your best girl friend. Let's say her name is "C." We're having a beautiful meal on a cold December morning at Brasserie Montmarte. Across the street from the restaurant, there is a tall building, with shops on the first floor and apartments on the upper floors. My brunch date, looking out into the street, exclaims "Oh! There's a little face in that window!" Her voice is surprised, and she points upward. I turn to look and sure enough, several floors up in the building across the streets is a red curtained window, open at the bottom, with a face peering out into the street. We let out a nervous laughter and remark on the creepiness of the face and the staring. We discuss whether or not we would be creepy spies if our apartment were located in such a busy place. Discussion continues and we decide it would be far less creepy just not to have a curtain and stand at the window, staring, like you mean it. The face goes away, the curtain completely drawn.

Throughout the meal C continues to notice when the curtain opens up and the creepy little face appears again. Sometimes it is the entire face, and sometimes it is just half the face. We make fun, and I beg my companion to photograph the face, to which she gleefully complies. (It took many attempts to not get a blurry photo from all the immature laughter). Our imaginations run wild:  Perhaps they are waiting for someone? I suggest: Perhaps he is a sniper and is sitting in that dark apartment room with a sniper rifle! C seems distracted at this point of the story, and is rummaging in her purse....I continue and say "When we leave here, we are going to have to run. We will have to zig zag so he can't get us...." I notice she is distracted, so, with some urgency I say "C, did you hear what I just said?! Are you even listening to me? What is the game plan?" She stops rummaging long enough to look up and say, (to my total delight) in a serious nonchalant tone "Zig Zag."

We make friends with our too formal, frigid, and slightly nervous waitress, by asking her if she has noticed the face. Her professional waitress facade comes tumbling down and now she's just a girl, in her 20's with a clear and just-pleasant face. She is both intrigued and creeped out by the face story. We show her our photograph, and after she sees the photograph, the face appears again, so now she sees him first hand. She runs and tells her other waitress friends, and now all of these girls, dressed in black, walk up to the front of restaurant to peer out and up, looking for the face. When he appears (which is right away) they all step back. Caught. Staring. One waitress visibly jumps and grabs her chest, exclaiming "Oh!" C and I laugh at them. Silly girls. 

We end our meal, I pick up the check, and leave a good tip. C goes downstairs to use the restroom before we head out. When she comes back, we put our heavy winter coats on and sling our purses over our shoulders, ready to leave. We say goodbye to everyone, now that we are friends sharing a creepy secret. When we step out into the street., C & I break out into a run and zig zag up to the end of the block, hoping not to get sniped! 

the post office.

I went out to run my errands a little later than usual. When I got to the post office, my shoulders sunk with regret, as I saw the long line. If only I began my day earlier....

Since my place was at the very back of the line, I decided to grab a couple hard-to-get medium sized flat rate boxes (they usually only have the an over abundance of the medium sized boxes that are shirt-box shaped, instead of the more cube shaped). An old man of about 65 took my place in line as I stood browsing the boxes. When I turned back to take my place behind him, he stepped back gesturing for me to go in front of him. I told him I was fine. We went at it back and forth a bit and finally he said "Please," and as I took my spot in front of him, both of us still at the back of the line, he yells "CIVILITY LIVES!" I thanked him, and smiled at the floor.

He wore a black leather motorcycle jacket, had gray hair and gray scruff on his face. I know this, because I was forced to look at him, because he kept talking to me after his declaration about civility. He said "...and happy holidays. Happy thanksgiving, and whatnot....and God bless you.....and god bless every citizen on this earth." I said "Thank you," again, and nodded in agreement to his last statement. I do agree with that. Every. Single. Person. deserves to be blessed. Then he went on about "..and God Bless America."  which lead to talking about the innocent children and parents of Iraq or Afghanistan...the sadness of wars...something about the US dollar....which soon lead to amazing women leaders of the world in the past 50 years. He rattled off several important women leaders, and mentioned Aung San Suu Kyi. (He was certainly up to date on his world news). He was also, very, clearly (?) nuts. Right? right?! I stopped staring at my phone, my hands, the floor, the boxes I was holding, long enough to look into his eyes, just to reassure myself he was, indeed, crazy. To my confusion and relief his eyes were gray, bright, and clear. He was not crazy. If anything, he was just lonely.

The people standing in line ahead of us, by this point, had all taken turns turning around to stare and chuckle at the crazy man. I could not bring myself to make eye contact with them, becauseI didn't want them to give me the "knowing" look and feel sorry for me. I was amused and (I will admit) a little embarrassed, but mostly enjoying the things this man had to say. I didn't want these people to think I was on their side, because I wasn't. I wasn't on anyone's side.

When we finally reached the front of the line, he turned to me again and said "Thank you for listening to what I had to say." Then it was my turn to buy stamps. Holiday stamps, to put on cards to send to the people I love, the people I have in my life that keep me from being the crazy person, lonely in the post office line.

After my purchase, I stuffed my stamps and wallet back into my purse, rummaging around for my keys as I turned away to leave in a hurry. The gray eyed man yelled at me one last time, "Go safely!"

I said a clear "Thank you, you too." and walked out. When I got out to the street, the cold air rushing past me made me suck in my breath. As I stepped off the curb and into the street, I surprised myself when I realized I was holding back tears. How often do you meet someone....in a public place, that is so honest, genuine, and refreshing? Someone just short of grabbing my shoulders and shaking me to WAKE UP! Appreciate. I thought I did. but you can always appreciate. more.

More.