The Much Dreaded Run-In

It may just be me, but I have the worst luck with people. I’m sure it’s due to my anti-social tendencies. It just seems that I never run into people I want to see. I have to tell you, it’s terrible luck.

It’s always the worst timing too. It’s when I decide to run to Target after the gym (make-up gone, sweat, hair a complete disaster) that I run into someone from church. It’s when I run into someone from high school and realize I have no idea what his or her name is. It’s when I see someone I absolutely can’t stand and realize they are walking my way. HORRIBLE LUCK!

I never come across people I would love to see. What can I compare it to? Oh, yes! It’s like when you’re sitting at church and that cute guy walks by and you think to yourself, “please sit by me, please sit by me,” but they never do. Instead I always get suck with the guy that I swear I just saw a clip of from “Book of Mormon: The Musical.” The weirdo. HORRIBLE LUCK!

So…just think of me. I’m sitting in Barnes & Noble trying to avoid the men working on the bathroom at my house. It should be my happy place; I’m combining two of my favorite things in the world, books and chai.

That is until I looked up to see a man I had no desire to talk to. For the sake of this post, we’ll call him Richard. Don’t get me wrong. Nice man. I just couldn’t see myself having a conversation with him. I knew he would ask about every detail in my life and then report back to his wife. Someone I like to keep my distance from.

My heart fell. I got butterflies in my stomach. “Oh, dear Lord! Has he seen me? Please say no! Oh, dear Lord! Please let me escape!”

OH! The Hell I was in! What was I to do? I was scared that any movement would attract his attention. I felt as if I had to be quiet as a mouse. Any sound or sudden movement would force me into a conversation.

I wish I had a mask! I wish I was a covert agent for the CIA then I would have known exactly what to do.

So I gently closed my book. Gently got my bag. Gently picked up my chai. Slowly stood. Turned my back to him. And walked gently toward the bookracks. Where I proceeded to walk to the door like a bat out of Hell.

I got to my car…a little out of breath. I sat in my car and called my mom and right in the middle of this exact story, “Richard” walked out of the door. “Oh my gosh! He’s like a bad rash. I can’t get rid of it.”

I started the car. I drove to the gym. Where I kid you not I ran into a girl from high school. Couldn’t tell you her name for a thousand bucks. HORRIBLE LUCK!