Observations of Absurdity

"Seem like a seem like a (uhhh...)
I'm a I'm a
I'm a freak magnet
I'm a freak magnet
I'm a freak magnet
I'm a freak magnet
And I'm callin' all the freaks
From the freak freak planet
I'm a freak magnet"

Freak Magnet —Violent Femmes 

The strangest of things always seem to happen to me. I have a penchant for the unusual and the bizarre. I generally embrace and delight in these aberrant moments. But now I intend to record them! Enjoy my observations of absurdity.

 

A beautiful blast from the past:

One night in high school when I was driving home from a friend's house, in the early hours of the morning, I pulled up at a red light. Across the small intersection from me a limo crept to a halt. The doors sprang open and 5-6 teens jumped from the car. At first I was thinking "Chinese fire drill?" but they all remained in their relative spots. Nowadays, we might call it a flashmob, but those weren't really a thing at that time; the trend that blew up a few years later certainly didn't exist then.  Simultaneously, they all began to dance, in time and in-step with one another around this car. Some sort of voodoo ritual, perhaps? I rolled my windows down, but no music emanated from the limo. It was dead silent except for the hummings of our idling engines. The dancers were silent as well. Not a sound out of them. As if on cue, they all turned to glare at me, then silently clambered back into the limo seconds before the light went green. Strange. Very strange. And I was the only one there to witness it. They drove off, and I drove off in wonderment. This memory has stuck with me as vividly as if I were there now.   

 

Now on to a few random recent ones. I hope to keep a semi-regular account going forward.

 

A Tuesday morning the beginning of May. I was at work, a few hours into my early morning shift, feeling the lack of zeds from a few recent concert stints in Vegas. A funny elderly man, whom I only know from casually crossing paths with here and there at the gym, walked through the door. I greeted him, he responded likewise, then randomly asked if I was dating anyone. Caught me a little off-kilter. "No," I curiously responded. "You know, I have a granddaughter about your age. She's single. Very cute, but she doesn't go on too many dates." Ummm, okay? He just kind of smiled at me, paused for a few seconds, and then walked on. Did he just asked me out on his granddaughter's behalf? He certainly appeared to imply that I should go on a date with her from his demeanor, but since he didn't elaborate further, I have no idea what he wants from me. Odd. And I really only know him about as well as you may know your mail carrier—a casual hey, how you doing here and there. I could be an axe-wielding homicidal maniac for all he knows (maybe for all you know too...).

An hour later, a group of four young women came in together. They were giggly and goofy as groups of friends like that can be. Just letting loose with their besties. (I'm now coining the phrase "A giggle of girls" to describe a group of young women. Like a murder of ravens, herd of cattle,  you get the idea). Anyhow, I check their waivers in and head down to teach them a belay lesson a few moments later. Due to checking their waivers in, I already knew how old they were—part of the job. They were giggly and a bit flirtatious as I walked them through the drill, but I wasn't reciprocating any romantic vibes, as I knew they were far too young. Anyhow, I finish up my lesson and ask, "Any questions?" And the youngest of the group, 18, steps closer, putting on her large puppy-dog eyes and says,"I have a question: can I get your number?"

Now, you must understand that I'm not particularly a stranger to situations like this (if you want to hear some other strange ones, ask me about living in Korea sometime), and I don't bring it up to brag—I'm no ladykiller like Messrs. Clooney or Pitt. I've always done somewhat well with the ladies—except for the part where I'm too damn stupid/clueless to ever "capitalize" on my apparent "charms?"—I don't know, it really is a mystery to me. Probably for the better too. I'd probably have gotten myself in a lot more trouble over the years if not. Any of my success has been in spite of myself. Anyhow, I only mention it as an explanation that I wasn't embarrassed or anything, as I've had enough random run-ins over the years. Practice. So I let her down gently by telling her that I was probably older than she was thinking. Told her my age, and she agreed. And let her know that I admired her courage, and was flattered. 

I returned to the desk, and started looking around for the hidden cameras.

Two strange romantic themed events in the same morning. But it wasn't the last either. Fast-forward another hour-ish and I got a call from a member I know relatively well. After recognizing my voice he says "Hey, this must be Morgan, so, are you married yet? Dating anyone? ___ [the wife] and I just don't get it, how are you single?! Anyhow, can you help us change the billing on our account?" 

What? Did I miss some sort of important romantic holiday on the calendar or something? At this point, I'm very perplexed. Still am.

 

Monday, June 9th.

At work again.

A 17 yr old girl comes up to me on her way out. I know her somewhat well from her frequent visits, but we don't interact much more than salutations and the occasional, how is school going, you still wanting to become a doctor, sort of chatter. Anyhow, she comes running up to the desk, beaming (which catches me a little off guard already—she's typically on the serious and reserved side). 

"Do you want to see my shark?" 

"huh? uhhh, sure?" I respond cautiously, attempting to gauge where this new energetic side is coming from.

So she starts to lift her shirt up from the bottom. Ummm, whoa, whoa, what is she doing?! Tattoo? my mind spits out, trying to figure out where on earth this is going. Hopefully she turned 18 in the last few months and is showing off her first tattoo that she got to make her parents mad.

She gestures toward her belly, "look" and then begins to peel down her high-waisted athletic shorts. WHOA! 

I'm no prude, but, like, I'm really really not into jail bait, nor am I accustomed to people starting to whip their clothes off in front of me while I'm at work (or anywhere, for that matter—see above where I said I'm no Clooney or Pitt). I turn away in fear, but she emphatically tells me again "look, look!". Out of the corner of my eye, I see only midriff, so decide to take a quick glance. "What the?!" I exclaim, as a plastic shark, about the size of a marble, pops out of her belly button and tumbles to the floor. She just stood there beaming at me. "It's been in there all day."

I'm pretty good at rolling with the punches—jiving with the outlandish, I've had some practice (refer to my theme song at the top of the post). So I jump to her level. "Just swimming around in his little belly-button bowl, all day?" I ask. 

"Yep", she beams again. "I'm going to leave him in there as long as I can. Forever, probably", she says, stooping to pick it up off the ground. 

"Okayyyyyyyyyy?? You're going to sleep with it in?" 

"Oh, definitely. I'll put some tape over in case, then he can't fall out." 

Shaking my head, "Okay, well, good for you, I guess?" 

"He will live in there forever, maybe so long that he'll just mesh into my body" She grins, snapping her shorts back into place to hold the shark in. She waved a quick goodbye, and skipped out the door. 

What the actual _____ ?! 

I don't know. I don't know. But I have the feeling that I won't be forgetting that one any time soon.