Friday, October 28, 2011

The Stranger in the Dark


It's been a while since I told a personal story, so here it is, true believers. I call it "The Stranger in the Dark."

It was about 5:30 and I was getting ready to leave work. I walked from one building on the corporate campus to another, older building. In the older building they turn out the lights pretty early, and tend to keep them off, as it is not an energy efficient building - hot in the summer, colder than a witch's (bosom) in a brass bra in the winter.

I walked into the bathroom and it was pitch black. I've pissed in the dark in this building before, so no big deal. I paused, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the dark, then I approached the urinal. It was then that I heard the stranger in the dark.

I don't even remember what he said, his voice made me scream like a little school girl and I got the frak out of that bathroom. For sure I thought the dude would stay behind to let the awkwardness subside. Not so much. Dude followed me out and when I got to the elevator, I couldn't press the button fast enough. I should've taken the stairs.

So, I decide to face the stranger. Older guy. Weird lopsided smile. He had this nervous, gimpy laugh and he was trying to explain himself and trying to make light of it. I played it off, but I was really creeped out riding down the elevator with this impish fellow. Then I remembered this human gnome: he was the same guy that wouldn't let me back in the building when I'd lost my security badge months earlier.

Now when I see him around he doesn't ignore all of this like it never happened. He gives me this knowing, lopsided grin and it makes we want to turn and go in the opposite direction with the quickness.

Don't know what I'm going to do about this Stranger situation, but I know one thing: I will never walk into a dark bathroom for an after-work whiz ever again.

UPDATE: The stranger came into my office today looking for someone named "Jack." I don't think I look like a Jack, so he ducked out and looked at the name tag on my door ... AWKWARD. Now the stranger knows my name and where I sit. In the parlance of the 1980s: grody!

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