Tuesday, April 15, 2008

The dangers of talking to yourself

Tonight I stopped for dinner at a tiny little restaurant next to an inn down the coast. Had a great little meal; reasonably priced and it's been a few months since I've been there, so I treated myself.

Afterwards, I hung out in the parking lot, and arranged some stuff in my van. Talking to myself-- quietly, or at least I thought I was. Some dude starts knocking on the van, loud, BAM BAM BAM. I wait a minute, then slide the door open and peek outside. It's a very friendly-looking older guy, very coastal looking (skinny, with grey goatee, looks like an aging surfer), asking, "Can I help you guys?". Huh? You guys? I look at him indignantly. No, I said, I just had dinner right here. "Oh!" he says, "Sorry, I didn't know that!" Well, then WTF are you banging on my van for, I thought. The difference between the suburbs and the City, again-- people are going to "may I help you?" in the suburbs, whereas in the City they leave you alone.

I bolted out of there fast. Thinking to myself, "You guys? Did he think there was a party going on in here? Was I really talking loud enough to be heard outside this van, and it sounded like a conversation? I'd better get moving on that soundproofing-- fast!". Well, I thought I was thinking it to myself. Or was I saying it out loud?

I'd better cut out this talking to myself before it gets me into some big trouble.

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