Sea of Humanity

The very best stories come from everyday encounters with those around us. You don't need television or books. You only need to wade out into the sea of humanity. And you'd better bring a life preserver...just in case...


Annoying Man and His Date, Annoying Woman
May 10, 2000

I went to see the movie "High Fidelity" starring John Cusack. It was entertaining while still offering a disturbing insight into the neurotic male psyche. Not that movies offering insights into the neurotic female psyche aren't disturbing as well -- they're just usually peppered with a nice blend of male bashing and "up with women-ness" that make you forgive the hapless heroine for her occasional hormonal misconduct.

This movie was saved with a cameo of Bruce Springsteen...as himself. Genius moment.

There were several familiar faces in this movie, actually, and if you happen to be one of those people who is tormented by the “where have I seen this actor before” syndrome, then you had to spend a great deal of time fretting over each new face searching your brain for a connection.

Seated behind me was one such unfortunate soul. Let’s just call him Annoying Man. Annoying Man was obviously a fan of movies, but not a fan of remembering just where the hell he’d seen that actor before.

Luckily for him, and unluckily for me, with Annoying Man was someone who was more than willing to help him through his crisis...Annoying Woman.

Any time someone new would come on the screen, Annoying Man would ask the same question, “Do we know that actor?” forcing Annoying Woman to explain to Annoying Man who that was and “where they had seen that actor before.”

For example....(The parenthetical statements are mine. All the things I was screaming in my head hoping to telepathically converse with Annoying Man and Annoying Woman in a vain effort to get them to shut the hell up. Oh, and to also show that I was a master at “where have I seen this actor before.”)

"That's Tim Robbins. He was in Bull Durham and Shawshank Redemption. He’s married to Susan Surrandan." (Uh, NO, he’s only living with Susan. They never actually got married.)

"Oh, that's the girl from the Cosby Show." (Uh, Lisa Bonet -- she played the second eldest daughter Denise. The only Cosby kid to get a spin-off. Perhaps you remember “A Different World?”)

"Honey, that's Catherine Zeta Jones." (The Mask of Zoro, The Haunting. Pregnant with Michael Douglas’ child.)

"That's Lili Taylor, you've seen her in a lot of stuff." (Say Anything also starring John Cusack and, most notably, a stunning performance in an episode of “The X-Files.”)

Finally, when we were introduced to Sara Gilbert -- Darlene Conner to fans of Rosanne -- I turned around and said, "Yes, you know her, that's Sara Gilbert who played Darlene on Rosanne, the adopted sister of Melissa Gilbert who played Laura on Little House on the Prairie!"

Okay, so I didn't really say that. But I wanted to. And I think we can all agree that it would have been pretty cool if I had.

After the film, I settled in to watch the credits as my movie companion gathered his belongings. When it became obvious that I wasn’t getting up, he asked if I was planning to stay.

I said, “Well, yes. I want to watch the credits.”

I received that look that says, “No, seriously.”

He then asked if I always stayed to watch the credits, to which I responded, "Uh, yeah" as if the thought of NOT staying to watch the credits was the equivalent of NOT buying popcorn and Twizzlers -- which would just be wrong. Tell me I am not alone in this.

But, judging by the fact that we were the only two people who stayed to watch the credits....maybe I am.



I Only Need the Four
June 18, 2001

I was standing in line at the grocery store the other day and there was an older gentleman in line ahead of me. He was one of those crotchety, mid-60s guys whose aura just told me I wouldn't like him. You know the kind -- checking to make sure every item rang up exactly as he expected and just generally sending out a crotch-like vibe.

The cashier was scanning his groceries and she picked up a carton of mushrooms -- the kind that come pre-packaged and wrapped in plastic wrap. The wrap had been removed and there were only four mushrooms in the carton.

She held them up and said, "Sir? Did you want these? They've been opened and there are only four mushrooms in here."

He said, "Yes. I only need the four."

The cashier said, "Yes, but sir --"

"I only need four. Just weigh them. I'm sure they won't be that much. Just weigh them."

So, the cashier, who obviously decided not to pursue this argument with Crotch Man, weighed the four mushrooms. I have no idea what she entered into the machine to arrive at the price she did, but I guess he was satisfied because he allowed her to ring up the rest of his groceries without incident. Until it came time to pay. He didn't have enough money so he had to go to the ATM outside the store and get some. He told the cashier that he would be right back and to "go ahead and take care of this girl." This Girl being me.

The cashier totaled him out and began scanning my items. When she picked up the bag of cotton balls I was purchasing I said, "Um, yeah…could I open that bag and take some of those cotton balls out, because I'm sure you'll agree that nobody needs 100 cotton balls."

Let me tell you, for a brief moment, I thought she was going to hit me. Then, thankfully, she burst out laughing and said, "Can you believe that guy? Sure! We can open the bag and take out some of the cotton balls. They are triple-sized, of course you don’t need all 100."

Then the lady bagging the groceries got in on the joke. She picked up my package of string cheese sticks and said, "You know, we can open this for you and take out two or three. There's ten sticks in here, are you sure you need that many?"

We continued like this with practically every item I had -- "Your hair isn't that thick, are you sure you want this entire bottle of shampoo?" "See, you picked up the triple-ply rolls of toilet paper. We could open this up, take out the rolls, separate the plys and then you wouldn't have to take home as much."

Then we debated about where in the store Crotch Man would have stashed the rest of the mushrooms -- the other ten in the package that he simply didn't need -- and wondered just what he was making that he only needed the four.

Then, the lady bagging the groceries said, "Shhhh! Here he comes!" And we all three straightened up and resumed our professional grocery purchase exchange behavior.

Later that evening, I was enjoying a stick of string cheese and thinking how glad I was that once I was finished with that stick, there were still nine others to follow. And then I thought of Crotch Man and hoped that where ever he was, he was enjoying his four mushrooms. Only the four.



Creepy Andy
July 20, 2000

I swear, I am like a magnet for unsolicited encounters with the most bizarre people society has to offer.

I went to Office Depot the other day to purchase some office supplies. I had my list written on a little post-it and was winding my way through the store collecting my items when I was approached by Andy, the Somewhat Creepy Office Supply Store Employee. (You know how some people just seem to exude creepiness? It’s not anything they say or do, necessarily, there’s just this aura of creepiness that seems to waft around them. Andy had such an aura.)

So, Creepy Andy asks me if he can help me find something. I turn to him and do that kind of double-take that you do when you see someone creepy and your face registers that they are creepy, and so you try and cover up for the fact that your face betrayed your thoughts, but all you can do is issue a stupid, lop-sided smile and try and avert your eyes. (Perhaps you’ve experienced this before -- or maybe you were on the other side of this reaction.) Immediately, one side of my brain tells me that it doesn’t want Creepy Andy’s help, but the other side of my brain is in a hurry and isn’t too keen on aimlessly wandering the aisles, so it speaks up and tells him what I am looking for. Creepy Andy points out the item and asks if there’s anything else I need?

So, the side of my brain that doesn’t seem to mind his creepy presence, tells him what the last item on our list is. As we walk to where this last item is located in the store, Creepy Andy begins to speak.

“Man, I’m just having the hardest time getting going today. I didn’t have my morning coffee, I guess,” he tells me.

(Okay, it is now 2 o’clock in the afternoon and I’m thinking that it’s a bit late to go for that first cup of coffee, but I don’t say this to him.)

“Hmmmmmm...,” I say.

He continues, “Yeah, and then I spent most of the morning with the police.”

(OKAY! Now, he’s got my attention. He also earns another of my double-take looks.)

“Well,” I stammer, “that, that can’t be good.”

“Oh, no,” he explains, “I wasn’t in trouble or anything.”

(I feel a bit better.)

“I was hasslin’ over changin’ the title of the car I just bought.”

(I’m not so sure where this is going, so I just continue to walk with Creepy Andy, hoping that we’ll get to my item of interest soon so that I can get the hell out of there. I don’t say anything lest he feel the need to elaborate even more. Turns out, he didn’t need any prodding to continue with his tale.)

“Oh yeah,” he says, “It was a real pain in the ass, I tell ya.”

He then proceeds to tell me the entire, long, involved story of how he went from one insurance office to another and then back to the first and then to the DMV in one county only to be told he needed to go to another county and then continued to get the run-around until he finally ended up at the police station. I have no idea how the police became involved because I could barely concentrate on his story because by now both sides of my brain are screaming in unison, “What the hell is going on here?!”

I continued to stare at Creepy Andy in stunned confusion. He obviously takes this as a look of interest because he then launches into the details of how he came to own this car, what type of car it was, how it was some type of convertible but it was missing the top but that’s okay because his friend owns a body shop and he was pretty sure he could get a good deal on one, and how since the car was a 1989 model he could just store it up in the garage for another three years and then he would be past the time limit required for needing a title in the first place.

Meanwhile, my arms are about to break off because I’m holding several heavy and awkward boxes (see, I didn’t bother with a buggy because I DIDN’T THINK I’D BE IN THE STORE THAT LONG) and trying desperately to figure out why this was happening.

FINALLY, Creepy Andy takes a breath long enough for me to express my regret at his misfortune, wish him “good luck with everything,” and beat a hasty retreat. After I made my purchases and got out to the car, I looked at myself in the rear-view mirror looking for the “Please tell me all about your problems. I love to listen to total strangers tell me their troubles.” sign that I thought must be hanging from my forehead.

I didn’t see any sign.

So what the hell was that about?