I’ve felt like a crazy person for most of my life. Always thinking that I’m reaching a new, unprecedented level of crazy only to find that in fact, there is even insanity that I have yet to surprise myself with. The other day, after a particularly longish-feeling day at work, I was caught in the rain. I had to take off my sandals (and wisely took off my cardigan) to run out to my car, and I looked like I had sat under Niagara Falls just from the millisecond it took for me to get out to it. Absolutely, drenched. My dress was like one of those bathing suits from way back when women were modest and went swimming in a mumu, and my hair, once where each strand was perfectly placed, would’ve made a drowned, soaking rat look like a show horse. But, despite a little rain, there was still work to be done! I had a movie to get, gas to fill my tank with, I had groceries to purchase! I had a date to prepare for. Lord knows, a little flash flooding and some hydro-planing are no match in keeping me away from a good time. By the time I had pulled into the Kangaroo Express, where I was planning to kill three birds with one stone, it was completely dry and sunny outside. Let me be even more clear, bright day with you, it hadn’t even rained there. So, I step out of my car, looking like a I had a water balloon fight with a planet of apes, and lost miserably, and enter the store. I may not have dry clothes, but I have my pride. And I’m a girl on a mission. I accomplished nothing because the store’s Redbox was broken and they didn’t have what I wanted. The cashier looked at me peculiarly and when I told him I was just caught in the rain, I could tell he was questioning my honesty. I was forced to carry on, to another, bigger (as in, containing far more people) store, where I strutted in, wet as a sponge, and gathered my necessities. At this Redbox, there was a family renting a movie.
Three members of the family. Mom, Dad, son. TWO kiosks to rent movies. Son: Not renting anything, just playing with every button on Kiosk A. Mom and Dad: Not paying the least bit of attention to the son who was taking up an entire kiosk with his lollygagging. Now freezing cold due to being in air-conditioned environments, drenched to the bone, hungry, and concerned about my makeup being smudged by the monsoon, I was getting antsy. And this boy was making me a little angry. By the time I got to the kiosk, I was ready to rent something that had dark and morbid themes….but I couldn’t find anything in time. Because there was a line of impatient people behind me. All staring at my awkward attire and dress as it dripped a pool of acid rain water around my legs. I couldn’t handle the pressure and began to hyperventilate. Then I dashed out of the store, like the New England speedwalker that I was born to be.
Peeling out of the parking lot, I whipped my car into my last resort. I filled up with gas at this completely different Kangaroo Express, and I rented a movie from their outdoor kiosk, I even bought a pack of gum to ensure I would never have to go anywhere ever again, for anything. As I stood there making my movie selection, the rain clouds slowly rolled away the sunny bright disposition of the sky, and drop by drop, began pouring on my little head….yet again. I mentally wagged my finger at all those whom I had just encountered, “I’ll show all of you!”
Fortunately, I was done all of my errands and the only left to observe me in my fully clothed shower state was my date.
It’s absolutely dumb-founding how crazy this experience made me feel. What having clothes sticking to your skin can do to your brain. You’re uncomfortable, cold, weary, and just want to get done with the hubbub and get home. Everyone else is basking in the sun, and soaking in the calm, radiant hours before 7:00pm. Sometimes I feel this way when I’m rushing to get an errand done and the rest of the world appears to be in pause, play, pause, play, pause, play mode. How it makes you want to explain yourself, but meanwhile no one even really notices or cares or hears anything except the craziness screaming through their own brains. It’s interesting, the separate and alienated, lonely lives we all lead. All here together.
Perhaps I’m not the only one left out to dry. I’m just the only one crazy enough to admit it.