Stranger Than Fiction

You're not supposed to talk to strangers. Or accept candy from them. But I think the older you get, you can't help it. We don't live in bubbles. There are people all around, many of them just dying for someone to talk to. Let's face it, all your "friends" are pretty much on Facebook - contact with real people has seriously diminished since school. You gotta reach out now and then when you're next to someone and just say hi. Make eye contact. Give a little smile. I've done it. It's crazy! Most people don't know how to react. I smile at a stranger and I think they think I'm weird. I really do. Most raise an eyebrow. Some look over their shoulders. No, dude, I mean you. I was smiling at you. A few will actually change direction, or check their purse. What the hell am I smiling about? If I wave it's even worse. Too friendly. Back off. I don't blame them. I used to react that way too when someone stared a little too long in my direction. I used to feel like maybe I had something in my teeth or I forgot to put on pants again. I would busy myself with my cell phone or re-organize the stuff in my pockets. Anything to avoid a conversation with a stranger. I was really bad about it for a long time. I think my mom's incredible compassion for everyman made me hesitate. She is a sponge face, and I have her face. Standing in the grocery line, all she had to do is look at the woman next to her and minutes later that woman would be pouring her guts out. At McDonald's, we could never just order. The distraught teenager behind the register would catch one glimpse of my mother's kind face and we would get an earful about how the lunch rush was going. I just wanted my nuggets. My mom can talk to anyone. I guess when I say talk, I really mean listen because people just reveal themselves and she hardly says a word. No subject is too delicate, no matter too private. When you're young, that's a frightening prospect and not a can of worms you want to open with an innocent smile. I'm older now than she was when I witnessed the sponge, so I figure it's time to just give in. My powers have yet to be realized, but I am my mother's daughter. I just cut my cable bill in half, so I'm starved for entertainment anyway. What better way to amuse oneself than to get strangers to open up a little? I tried it at the RMV. That's east coast for DMV. I was re-newing my driver's license, changing it from MI to MA. The lady behind the desk seemed disgruntled. I thought it was just her, but I'm told that's a pre-requisite for the job. I pictured her smiling in the interview and the supervisor giving her a little tip. Turn that smile upside down, lady. You want this job or not?

So when B38 was called, I handed her my forms. She pulled them toward her and kept her eyes on her computer.

"It's $90."
I smiled. "What a deal!"
No reaction. Eyes still on computer. "Look in the viewer for the eye test."
I chuckled. "Oh, and me without my glasses...can't believe I made it here!"
No reaction. Eyes still on computer. "Read the smallest line you can see."
I sobered a little. Peered into the viewer. I read the letters.
Her: "Okay. Do you see a flash, right side or left?"
Me: "Ever wonder who writes these eye test lines? I want that gig. How hard can it be?"
No reaction. "Right or left?"
"Right. Left. Right."
"Pass."
She typed something in the computer.
"Wow," I said. "That is some cast you got on your finger. What happened there?"
She actually looked at me. Oooh, I think I got her.
"What, this?" she nearly flipped me off.
I laughed. "No, your other hand."
She smiled. She is so fired!!!
"Ha ha. You wouldn't believe it if I told you."
"Try me."
"You know those tension rods you use to put up curtains? The metal ones that have a spring in them?"
"Sure, I've seen them."
"Well I was putting up curtains and the damn thing slipped and snapped back, sliced my finger wide open. Almost fell off!"
"Holy crap! That musta hurt. Was there a lot of blood? I would have passed out."
"I almost did! It was awful. I hadda call my daughter and she took me to the ER. Nine stitches. It hurts like hell."
"That's one hell of a bandage. Must suck trying to type with it."
"Nah, it's okay. I usually just hunt and peck anyway."
"Was your daughter scared? Did she freak out when you called her?"
She gathered my forms. "I gotta take your picture, hon. Sit in the chair real quick. Yeah, she was like, Mom, what did you do? She wrapped my hand all up real tight and got me in the car. Smile! Great. You can change it if you want, but I think it looks good."
She showed me the photo. I am not vain, but I want to be excused for accepting this particular version of me as I was more interested in my conversation with a stranger. Looking at my license now I believe I resemble someone who ate all the cookies.

"It's fine. Kinda funny, huh, when your daughter has to take care of you - you're probably used to the other way around."
"Oh, yes, if you knew my daughter. We had a good laugh about it. She reminded me about Mr. Prince." She tapped something in the computer, looked at my forms. Then back at me. "Mr. Prince was her stuffed turtle when she was a kid. It got ripped in half somehow, maybe the dogs, I don't know. But anyway, she cried so hard. I sewed Mr. Prince up good as new. So she says, 'Mom, this is just like Mr. Prince. You'll be good as new!"
"That's so great. She's right, I'm sure - Lynda, is it?"
"Yep, that's me," she grinned and pointed to herself with the bandaged finger.
I wrote the check for $90 and handed it to her. "Thanks for your help - I'm glad to check this off my list today. And it was fun meeting you!"
"Of course, no problem. You should get your license in the mail in the next week or so."
"Did you ever get those curtains up?"
She smiled wryly, "Went with the mini blinds, actually."
We both cracked up.

I left the RMV smiling. People think I'm weird. But I don't care. Every once in a while, one doesn't.