So, another thing that seems to happen to me a lot... random people like to tell me their life story.
Now this usually happens in the course of my daily travels on public transportation. I once met a man waiting for the train that told me he had just traveled all the way to New York City to see Megan Fox. And then, much to his diasappointment when he saw her, she refused to give him her autograph. Another lady told me how she had just saved up $200 to send to her delinquent son in jail for his birthday. This other guy told me all his relationship woes; he had just recently been in a big fight with his girlfriend and he didn't know how to get her back.
But there is one guy that stands out among the rest. I didn't meet him on public transport. No, I met him at the podiatrist's office.
As some of you know, I happen to have inherited two lovely bone deformities, one on each foot, known as bunions. They are pretty painful to have and even more painful to remove. Anyway, it was my two week post operative check up and I was still on a lot of pain killers at the time.
This man, that looked to be about 60ish, walked into the office and went up to the window. The receptionist asked him to sign in and he said he was not here for an appointment, he was waiting on his father. He then proceeded to tell the receptionist a dirty joke and she slammed the glass window in his face and told him to sit down.
What a lead in.
Naturally, he sits across from me. He started asking me why I was wearing a medical boot and I told him why. Then he went on to tell me that he had two bunion surgeries. He said that he insisted he have both of them done at the same time against the better judgment of his doctor. Then he told me that I didn't have to listen to what the doctor's said about not being able to walk without the boot on after two weeks, because he was able to go back to work in that time. Apparently, this guy has the capability of superhuman healing times.
I wasn't really giving anything more than an occasional head nod to show the guy that I was aknowledging that he was speaking to me. Truth be told, he sounded like he didn't know what he was talking about and I wanted him to leave me alone. However, I didn't want to seem rude.
Anyway, this guy goes on to tell me that when he was a kid, his brother was swinging around a some kind of a hammer and hit him in the head. He had a gash in his skull and he was running around bleeding all over the place for a while. His brother didn't seem to want to help him out too much. He ran up to his porch steps when upon seeing him, his mother passed out. The neighbors apparently didn't care to stop him from running around or call an ambulance so he ran inside. He was about to "jump out the window of the master bedroom" (why this seemed like a good idea I am not sure) when his grandmother tackled him to the ground. Eventually, he was sent to the ER and had an exorbitant amount of stitches put in his skull.
Now, I am in no way going to try to make light of this story. This is an awful story. I told him I was glad he was alright. Then he moved to the seat next to me and told me to feel where the dent was in his skull. Now that was awkward. I politely refused and he went back to his seat.
And the story continued.... All through highschool this guy didn't do well. His brothers were honor roll students and he was lucky to get Cs. His father was never happy with him and told him he was a dead beat. The man said that nobody ever thought to check if he had a learning disability due to the big gash in his head. I guess he felt really cheated by that. After highschool he joined the army.
He said he wanted to join. Everyone else was dodging the draft and moving to Canada but he wasn't afraid. Vietnam was real and he was ready. He was sent to New Mexico for Army training, but the conflict was over before he left New Mexico. He seemed disappointed. He said "The only thing the army ever did for me was teach me how to smoke pot and how to hunt rattlesnakes." Apparently, all the officers and enlisted men in his unit smoked pot and then went out snake huntin'. He said he got so good at it that he used to cut off the rattles on the rattlesnakes and mail them to the little kids back in his home town. Those kids thought he was a God for doing so.
For a while after that he started telling me about how his brothers, who didn't seem interested in helping the man take care of his father. He was angry that they were suddenly interested in making sure their names were put in his father's will.
Then this guy asked me if I liked dirty jokes. Really? I said no and I tried to pretend like I was reading the novel I brought with me. Maybe that would signal that I really just wanted to be left alone. But it didn't.
The story telling continued for about 30 min until this man's father came out. The father must have in his 80s or 90s. They paid and were on their way.
I suppose I should be flattered that people feel comfortable enough around me to tell me about their life after they first meet me. I wonder if maybe this guy was actually Forest Gump reincarnated. Or maybe he was just a man looking not for someone to talk to... just someone to listen.
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