Friday, November 6, 2015

People Are Funny.

If you're old enough, you may remember Art Linkletter and his TV show, People are Funny. 
And on one particular day, that aptly applied to my situation.  People ARE Funny.  And in this case, I say "funny" like in odd, weird, or peculiar.

It all started one day when my car wouldn't start. 

Luckily, the car was still in my garage.

Unluckily, it was Friday evening, so I spent the entire weekend sans wheels. 

And really unlucky?   My car was out of warranty by exactly 3 months.

But early on Monday morning, after a jump-start, I showed up in my dealer's repair garage for, hopefully, what would be a quick fix on my car.  

After a brief talk with the service manager, I headed for the waiting room.  There were only two other customers waiting at the time, so I sank into the empty big black leather chair on the end to wait for word on how long a wait it would be.  A giant TV with the Today Show was flickering on the screen.    

There was no promise that the car would be finished anytime soon, so I was offered their Shuttle ride home.  I thought of calling a relative or friend for a quick ride home, but, not a fan of asking for favors,  I decided to take the free shuttle. 
How bad could it be?  Especially for me...I'm a confirmed  backseat driver...I even have a license!

Other anxious car owners started trickling into the waiting room and soon, all the seats were filled.   And, of course, we all had the same get out as quickly and inexpensively as possible.

An elderly man shuffled into the waiting room and announced three names that he was ready to shuttle home.

One woman who was waiting had her two little ones in tow.  One about 5 and the other maybe 2 or 3.  They were the first to be driven home (although one woman argued that SHE was there first). 

It was after the first shuttle left.  That's when "People are Funny"  thoughts came rushing into my head.

I was quietly minding my own business straining to hear Matt Lauer on the Today Show when suddenly I was interrupted.  
"Do you go to the dances?"  I turned my head to the woman on my left.  I was stunned
surprised.  Was she speaking to me?  She then repeated herself,  "Do you go to the dances?" 

I am assuming that this nosey quizzical lady over-heard me say that I was from Trenton when I told the Shuttle driver where I needed a ride to.

Then, since she didn't get an answer to her "dance" question, she asked if I was a Senior Citizen....hummm.   My only guess as to why she asked the "senior" question is that she assumed since I was in a Buick dealer I must be a senior.   I politely smiled and retorted "At what age do you consider someone to be a senior?"

Then she went on to say, to all 6 of us now waiting, that she was 72 and liked to go to dances, and assumed that I knew all about the senior dances in the area.  I asked her if she was referring to the senior dances at the city's recreation department (NO I do NOT go, nor do I ever intend to), but she didn't seem satisfied with that. 
By now she wanted to know my exact age.  There was a slight gasp from one of the other women who then quipped in, "You never ask a woman her age."   One person on my side.

But that didn't stop the interrogation.  
This lady asked if I was widowed. Then she proceeded to tell me that she dated a local police chief, a retired local FBI man, and meets lots of people.  She then asked if I ever to go one of the local parks on the Detroit River.  She said it was a good place to meet people.  
Oh my, I thought, strangers in the park? 

I envisioned Chris Farley and his "Living in a Van Down by the River" routine.

By now, everyone was peering over their newspapers and looking up from the TV to see who this obnoxious chatty woman was.  I had a pleasant smile on my face, masking my "People are Funny" thoughts.

Do I unconsciously send out some kind of vibe that says "I'm desperate to talk to you?"
I don't think so.  I always stay alert of things going on around me, but in these types of settings where I am held captive in a crowded waiting room, I am usually quiet and mind my own business.

When 72 year old Miss Chatty didn't get much out of me, she turned to another victim woman who was rescued from the questioning when the shuttle driver stepped into the room to pick his next passengers.

He was coming up with some sort of way to take the people home without backtracking.  He called 3 people.  I was the 4th.  I declined his offer of a ride and said I'd wait until he returned. 

He wouldn't hear of it, and motioned for me to come.  BIG MISTAKE!  Why did I do that? 

Instead of a direct route home which would have been a 15 minute ride, at most, I was
taken on a winding journey through cities exactly the opposite of where I was going.  And all this while listening to "chatty-woman" sitting in the front seat while I was being squeezed hip-to-hip with two elderly men in the back seat. 
                       Worst. Ride. Ever.

What a trip...confirming my opinion:
People Really Are Funny!

Friday, October 16, 2015


I don't shop nearly as often as I used to.  Mostly because nothing fits...except shoes.  Shoes fit.  They fit so well that I have too many. No, I haven't gone all Imelda Marcos, but I have so many shoes that even my shoes have shoes!  Pumps. Boots. Loafers. Wedges. Flats. Sling-backs. Stilettos.

Every so often I clean out my over-crowded closet and throw out the dusty, the out-of-date, the worn down, and the old shoes to make room for the new.

The other day I ran to my closet to pick out something different.  It's that time of year:  too late to wear sandals, but too early to don a pair of boots. 
I always have trouble choosing shoes between the Summer/Fall season, and again during the Winter/Spring season.

If it were up to me, I'd sport a sandal all year long.  I have hot feet (as in temperature) most of the time anyway.   Love sandal heels.  Love sandal flats. Love sandals that tie.  Love sandals that buckle.  Just love, Love LOVE sandals on my feet.

So, while searching my closet I spotted a pair of shoes that would be perfect for the day's weather.  Just a petite peek-a-boo toe on a brown suede.   This particular pair of shoes had a soft comfy, chunky heel that always put a "spring" in my step.  Perfect. 
I hadn't worn these shoes for a while, perhaps a couple of years.  I actually forgot about them, so when I discovered them again in my closet, it was ALMOST like finding the perfect new pair again.

I put on my shoes, ran downstairs and I was out the door and into my car to run a few errands.

During my first stop at the post office as I exited the car, I noticed some black spots on the carpeted car mats.  hummm.  Where did this come from? I thought I must have stepped in something.  I plucked a few of the little dark specks from the carpet and threw them out the window.

My next stop was to gas up the car.  Things went fine as I headed in to the station.  Yes, I pay cash for my credit card.

My third stop was a quick run through the grocery store.  Just needed a couple of items, so I grabbed one of those small baskets that all the single shoppers use, and made my way through the food aisles.
Trail of black throughout the whole store
As I walked on the gleaming white floors, the heel of my shoe started to feel uneven.  Looking at my left foot, I could see that the chunky heel and sole of the shoe was disintegrating before my eyes.  I glanced back and saw that I was leaving a trail of black crumbled bits.  Once the heel started to decay, the process was fast. I hobbled to the cashier trying to keep my weight on my "good" shoe. 

By the time I reached the cashier, I felt like Gretel (sans Hansel) with a whole trail of black "crumbs" shadowing me.  Then suddenly, my "good" heel did the exact same thing, and fell apart instantaneously! 

Start of Crumbling

Both shoes at the same time? How long were these poor soles in my closet? 
They just rotted away, I assume. 
Perhaps it's time to revisit the shoe closet:  
Out with the Old...In with the New!