Ok, yes, yes, this was my own fault, I hear your lecture. Don't tell my mommy! Here is the not-so-interesting-but-still-creepy-story anyway.
So Mufasa (not his real name...but those who know will know of whom I speak) is on call this week from work...i.e any time some kidney, liver, lung etc becomes available for transplant at his Hospital, he has to check this big binder to see if the recipient is eligible for being part of a clinical trial for some (blood sucking but also life saving) pharmaceutical company. If they are eligible, he has to go to the hospital prior to the surgery to get consent to being part of the trial. Anyway, we are enjoying a rented DVD (House, Season 1) at past 11 pm when the pager goes off...again. This time the lucky kidney winner is eligible. I feel like getting out of the house, so we drive there...so fast and nice with limited traffic...although it's wierd how many people ARE out and about. I go to a nearby Tim Hortons to wait for the likely 30 minute interlude...after getting over my paranoia about the car being towed or ticketed. Now it's around half past midnight. It's busy, students studying, EMS and cops around...it is Hospital road after all. Get my tea, reading "The Time Travellers Wife", happily nestled in a back corner, nostalgic about studying at this place a few years ago. A man I would normally identify in my internal dialogue as a pedophile...you know what I mean (do you?)...takes a seat at the table in front of me. He keeps looking at me. He's drinking apple juice.
Man:
Excuse me, I'm going to the washroom, can you watch my stuff? (Stuff = apple juice)
Me:
Ya, sure (trying not to be rude or friendly)
He comes back after a long time (hm...wonder what was going on there, actually I'd rather not)
Man:
Thanks
Me:
Ya
Man:
Don't you think it's cold here?
Me:
Not really (concentrating very hard on book, cell phone, not making eye contact, planning appropriate exit strategy if necessary)
5 minutes go by...by now somehow the place has thinned out. Still note man making occasional glances, and now he's repositioned himself on the table so he's directly facing me. Then he gets up and comes up to my table. Fight or flight reaction is now initiating.
Man:
I'm going out now to get a magazine, can you guard my stuff again?
Me:
mumble mumble
Man:
You know, you have really nice feet.
Me:
What? (barky, rude, bitchy look, scowling)
Man:
mumble mumble mumble pantyhose
Me:
WHAT (eyeing cop car right outside, worried pedophile is out to steal my cell phone)
Man:
Do you wear pantyhose with garters (touching his thighs)
Me:
(look away, read book furiously)
Man goes out, I call what I think is Mufasa's on-call-cell-phone-number...turns out it is a work-related number of my own...machine (hope I didn't wake her up). Finally pick the right number from the recent received calls when Man returns. Mufasa is all cheery as kidney winner has refused to be included in trial (now he doesn't need to do his bloodwork etc and we can go the hell home)...but with Man back I make no mention to Mufasa of Tim Hortons situation, instead..."ya, be right there" while gathering up my stuff.
As I leave Man is staring at my feet walking past.
Ok, so I was downtown at a coffee shop at almost 1AM, what do I expect.
Next time I'm not wearing sandals! Doc Martens it is! What is it with people and feet? I don't just mean deranged people like Mr. Apple Juice, but regular people too.
Deeply DPF
