I'm not your bitch, don't hang your shit on me.

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Walk on by

If you see me walking down the street
And I start to cry each time we meet
Walk on by, walk on by...

The words and music of Burt Bacharach and Hal David pop into my head after he passes by me. Ok, so I don't cry and it isn't Dionne Warwick's voice I hear, but Kelly Clarkson's (when she blew that eh-sounding song out of the water on the first season of American Idol and the judges were like, "Why didn't you pick Anyone who had a heart" and Kelly was like, "I just liked this song better" - TMI, I know).

Moving on...

Coming home after a rather uneventful afternoon downtown, I'm about to cross through the park and before coming to the curb, this man (who just crossed the street) walks towards me. He looks like a young version of Pat Foran (anyone who watches CTV knows who I'm talking about, for everyone else, imagine a good-looking, suburban, WASPy soccer dad who just dropped off his kids at a friend's house while he searches for a coke dealer and a quick fuck in his minivan with the DVD entertainment system in the back).

He smiles and says, "Good morning." I mumble something back, like, "Yeah, uh." It's not my best moment of verbal dexterity, but I have to admit I'm figuring out what the hell he means by saying "Good morning" in the middle of the afternoon. Did I misunderstand him?

Did I ever meet you before? I'm good with faces. Names, not so much (but it doesn't matter since most guys I know are named John, Mike or Matt). Have you serviced me recently? I don't think he works at Walmart. Were you the Jehovah's Witness that keeps on knocking at my door? If you are, I already believe in Jebus, or whatever, and I don't need another Bible - mine makes due levelling out my couch with the missing leg.


Crossing the park, I realize I have no idea what he really said. I look back and I see that he looks back, as well. We have the same expression. You know the look - one hand is on your head while the other is on your hip, and your forehead scrunches while you're raising an eyebrow. An amazing technical feat, I'd say. It conveys the message of, "Where have I seen you before?" without saying a word.

Maybe we have. Maybe we haven't.

From now on, you'll be known as the guy who says "Good morning" in the middle of the afternoon. Another nameless face to add to the list. I could call him John, Mike or Matt, but that would get too confusing. Simplification is the key. And as I contemplate this, the song chimes in my head. Kelly's voice is coming in loud and clear.

Walk on by, walk on by...


Anonymous Jason said...

It's called cruising.

October 26, 2006 12:33 pm  

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