I Attract Weirdness

If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times: I attract the strangest people and situations. I have two experiences to share today.

EXPERIENCE #1:
Two nights ago I was in a deep sleep when I was awoken by a horrible sound coming from the street outside my house. Fthump... Fthump... Fthump. Over and over again. Well the sound just got louder and louder. I pulled myself up and gazed out the window to find the origin of the noise. I saw a red car coming ever-so-slowly down the street with its hazard lights a-flashing. Fthump... Fthump went the car. As it neared my house and I could get a full look at the car, I noticed that all the tires on the vehicle were flat. Yet, the driver was insistent on driving the car to some unknown 3:00 a.m. appointment. I wanted to run out in the street and tell the driver that he was going to ruin his tires if he continued driving on them flat. I worried that at any moment the car may explode, for some reason. But I was too tired to worry much more about it. I listened to the Fthump Fthump disappear into the distance as I drifted back to sleep.

Experience #2:
Last night I went to WalMart to pick up a few necessary items. I hurried into the express checkout lane (which was not so "express"), cutting off another man who was also hurrying to the express lane. I stood there with my arms full of items, waiting my turn.

Suddenly I heard behind me, "So what high school did ya go to?" I didn't hear an answer, so I turned my head ever-so-slightly to see who had spoken. It was the man behind me, and he was directing his question at me. I turned and looked at him and noticed his splotchy face and brown teeth. I said, "Umm... Sky View," and turned around again. There was only one person in front of me before it was my turn to pay for my items.

"What's your name again?" he asked. I turned a little and said, "Jon." He said, "I'm Tom." (Names have been changed to protect the insane.) "Nice to meet you," he said, offering me a filthy hand. I instinctively crossed my arms across my chest. (The conveyor belt counter was now available for my items.) "Nice to meet you, too." I said confused.

"So you still running?" he asked. Wondering why we were engaging in such an absurd conversation, I decided to give in and fain interest and involvement in his delusions. "Nope, not anymore," I said. What would it hurt to pretend that I knew this man? Afterall, the customer in front of me was nearly done checking out... or was he?

"So whatcha doing after this? Just going to go home and spend time with your family?" he asked.

"Just going to go home and relax before bed," I answered. "And you?" I noticed three movies in his hands. "You just going to go watch your movies?"

"Yeah," he said. (Long pause as I looked to see what was taking the person in front of me so long to enter his PIN on the credit card machine.)

"I went to Cyprus High School," he informed me. "But then I got kicked out and had to go to a juvenile detention center."

"Oh! That's cool," I said. What else was I supposed to say?

FINALLY! It was my turn to check out. I quickly swiped my card, entered my PIN, and gathered up my bags.

"It was good to see you again, Joe," said Tom, waving awkwardly.

"Good to see you, too!" I said.

Adventures in Public Transit

So as you may have heard, my car, "Hans," is currently out of service. He doesn't want to start, and I believe that it is the fuel pump. The thought of paying for yet another repair is making me sick to my stomach, so Hans is sitting in front of the house taking a much-needed nap until I can work up the strength to take him to a repair shop.

Last weekend I had plans to drive up to Logan to visit family and friends, celebrate Father's Day, and attend the funeral for a dear fellow performer, Laura Benson. So Friday after work I got my car all packed up and ready to go. I got ready to leave, but low and behold, the car wouldn't start. The engine would sputter and moan and pretend to start, but would immediately die. (From what I've been able to assess from online research, it sounds like the fuel pump.) I thought perhaps it was the battery so I tried jumping it with my roommates car. No luck. I called home to tell them I didn't think I'd be able to come.

My friend Kristin wasn't accepting this and she got online to find a way for me to get home for the weekend. Turns out rental cars are a bit pricey for a few days. Then she found THE SALT LAKE EXPRESS shuttle. I had never heard of it, but come to find out, it goes to Logan twice a day and costs $20 each way. Kristin booked me a seat on the shuttle for Saturday morning at 7:45.

So at 7:45 the next morning I boarded the shuttle, along with 5 other unfortunate people who don't have cars. There was a hispanic man in the back corner seat, a young couple (probably 16-17 years old) in front of the hispanic man, and a man in a black hoodie and sunglasses (reminded me of the Unibomber). We set out on our journey to Logan. The ride was enjoyable, sans the uber shaky van. I thought at one point the whole bus was going to fall apart. Luckily it didn't. After a stop in Ogden and a stop in Brigham City, the shuttle finally arrived in Logan. Kristin was waiting at the University Inn to pick me up.

Well the weekend flew by and before I knew it, it was Monday afternoon and I had to head back to Salt Lake. I got a ride from Kody and Kim to Ogden. From there I boarded the Front Runner train. I was really excited to ride the train; I had high hopes that it would take me back to my years riding the trains in Switzerland. I chose a seat on the top floor of the train and waited for the train to depart.

Turns out, the train is not as fast as I imagined. It barreled through Roy, Clearfield, and Layton. But after Layton it just crawled down the tracks all the way to Salt Lake. If there had been scenic views I wouldn't have minded, but all I saw was people's backyards.

Finally after an hour on the train I arrived at the Hauptbahnhof in Salt Lake City. From the main station I got on Trax, which took me to Trolley Square -- only 6 blocks from my house. The remaining 6 blocks I took by foot. I didn't think it would be too bad, but about 2 blocks into it my heavy duffel bag full of dirty laundry and shoes started to real wear on my shoulder. By the time I got home I was sweaty and my shoulder hurt real bad.

All in all, it was an okay experience riding on public transportation. I would probably do it again, knowing what I know now. Number 1: don't bring heavy luggage with you. Number 2: don't wear flip flops. Those are the big things.

It is nice, now, to know how the other half live -- those who don't have the luxury of having a car to drive whenever they choose. I appreciate having a car more today than I did last week.

Don't Leave Me Here, Patrick!

I love living downtown. I have the weirdest experiences. This morning I was awoken at 1:30 by some shouting outside. I pulled myself out of a daze quickly enough to poke my head out the window and see what was going on. My eyes came into near-focus as a young woman pulled herself up from the sitting position on the sidewalk. From what my blurry eyes could make out she was pulling her pants up and trying to run. At first I thought maybe I had barely missed seeing this girl getting raped. But as she ran into a parking lot she screamed, "Patrick!! Don't leave me here!" And she was weeping dramatically. "Patrick!!!" She screamed in complete distress. I didn't see Patrick anywhere near by. "Come back!"

Then she started running up the street in her flip flops. "Patrick!" She pulled her cell phone out and I could see from the glowing screen that she was making a phone call or sending a text, mostly likely to Patrick because he had left her there. "Boo hoo hoo" she cried. Then she was gone. I layed back down baffled by what I had just witnessed. Suddenly I heard her coming back. "Hello?" she said, answering a phone call. "Patrick! Come back. Don't leave me here." She resumed weeping melodramatically. Running in the opposite direction her frantic screams for Patrick faded into the night air.

I hope she found Patrick.

Hello, My name is Adrian

Last night I had a particularly awkward experience. My mom convinced me to go with her to the viewing of her Uncle Jess. I met my mom, Grandma, and Aunt Geri at the funeral home on South Temple, which I swear is haunted. While the ladies were taking a quick potty break before viewing the corpse, I took myself on a little tour of the facility. Sure enough, it was about 100 years old, which means it HAS to be haunted. I found a secret dark staircase that went to... I don't know where. The light on my cell phone was not bright enough to light all the way to the bottom of the stairs. A chill ran up me spine, so I turned around.

Well, that's not the awkward part. When we entered the viewing area there weren't more than 20 people, counting the dead body. My mom introduced me to some of her cousins. I have never seen these people in my life, but I pretended to be interested in knowing who each one was. Then one of the cousins came up and my mom introduced me. "This is my son Jon. Jon, this is so-and-so." (I've already forgotten the names.) She said, "Nice to meet you, Adrian." I was like, "What?" She was like, "Your name is Adrian?" I was like, "No, Jon. But close."

Anyway, after a few more similarly awkward experiences I decided it was time to leave. Afterall, you can only sit and stare at a dead body in a casket for so long before it gets kinda creepy. My mom walked me out to my car and while we were outside chatting her cousin pulled up and climbed out of her Expedition wearing a bright blue linen dress and white socks and white sandals. Pretty classy. I had to giggle. This cousin's name was Benet (like Jean Benet). She has a sister named Monet. I think their parents like French-sounding names.

So the moral of the story is that family can be the cause of some of the most awkward experiences in life. I hope when we get to heaven and meet all our dearly-departed that it isn't as awkward as my experience at the funeral home was. I'll just need to make sure my heavenly name tag clearly says "JON" so no one confuses me for Adrian again.

Classic Peg

This is hilarious. You must watch it at least 5 times until you think it is as funny as I do.

Why Do I Feel Bad for Homeless People?

This morning when I was returning home from the gym I was stopped in my drive way by a man. He was homeless, as I found out later. He asked if I could do him a favor. I listened to his tale of misery and wo. He got permission from the "father" of the LDS church down the street to sleep behind the building. Well he left his sleeping bag and blankets there the night before, and when he returned someone had stolen them. So he walked over to the Sacred Heart Church down the street and slept there. A kind woman had given him a quilt to sleep in, but at 2 in the morning the sprinklers came on and drenched him. Poor guy. Well, he was waiting for the alcohol sobriety facility to open, although he was "not an alcoholic." He asked if I could give him some change to go to the Burger King and get some breakfast. Well, there I was standing in my gym bottoms and the only thing I had on me was my gym membership card, my phone, and my keys. I told him I didn't have anything but really wished I could help out.

Now, here's the moral concern of the day. I told him I wished I could help. I really did feel bad that he had to sleep behind the church, that he got his livelihood stolen, and that he got soaked by the early morning sprinklers. But if I really wished that I could help him I could have gone inside and gotten a few dollars from my wallet. Or gone to my car and given him the little sack of change I keep in the glove box for emergencies. But I didn't. And as I soaked myself in a nice warm shower I thought that I should go find the man and give him some change to buy breakfast at Burger King. But I didn't go find him.

Next time I will help. I think.

Millie's Open Now

Last Saturday was opening night of my latest production "Thoroughly Modern Millie" at Rodgers Memorial Theatre in Centerville. I think it went alright. There were a few minor errors, but I suppose that's normal. If anyone reading my Glob is interested in coming to see it, you should. It's a really fun show. I recommend this one!