Weirdness Becomes Me

The other day my friend Marion helped me look for apartments (again). We basically searched ads all day and she called the places for me. Trying to find an apartment is emotionally draining and Marion did most of the work, so I would like to take this space to give her a big, virtual high-five; Marion, you are the greatest!

After spending all day doing this, I got in the metro system (the bowels of Paris) to do the long ride back to my ghetto. In Auber, one of the large stations, an old, wealthy looking woman asked if she could pass with me through the turn style because she was fat (her words, not mine). I thought this was really strange, but she was old and I was tried, so I let her. She kissed me three times for letting her pass and said, “Grazie, Thanks, Merci.” Then she started talking to me in English, which was terrible, and told me she was a teacher of “diplomat babies” which I assumed meant children of diplomats. I didn’t really believe her or understand her much, but she was old and was holding my hand so I was sort of stuck with her. There were some stairs and I decided to help her down the stairs.

I have a heart necklace I wear often. It isn’t expensive but it was expensive for me when I bought it and I love it. The old woman saw my necklace and touched it and said, “Someone has your heart.” I said yes because I didn’t feel like getting into the whole relationship talk with a woman I didn’t know. Then she asked me if I had babies and I said no because I hate children. She slapped me. Just in case you didn’t get that, A TOTAL STRANGER SLAPPED ME for saying I hate children. Then she kissed me again and pinched my cheek.

At this point, I was a little worried I was going to get my pocket picked because the situation was so bizarre. She told me about being a Jewish woman and said she didn’t want to be Jewish anymore and then kissed me again. Then she asked me what I did and I told her I was a teacher so she kissed me some more. She started talking about religion once more and asked me what I was and I said, “I am nothing,” and she slapped me again. This slap was also followed by more kisses and a cheek pinching session.

Finally, I was able to pull myself free of her grip and run away. I really think she was just a lonely old woman, but I am beginning to think this southern politeness thing is for the birds. The only reason I helped her and spoke with her is because I was raised to respect my elders and I think after this experience, I will let someone else respect them. I don’t want to sound like a big baby, but she hurt me! My cheeks really stung for hours after those slaps and pinches. And for what? I didn’t get my pocket picked or anything; it was just a really crazy occurrence.

I don’t think I would mind the fact that my life is obviously marked by the powers that be to entertain others, I just wish it wasn’t in comedy form. Even as I type this, I still can’t believe this happened; however, if somebody were to predict this farce and tell me that it would happen to someone in my life, I would automatically know it would happen to me and I think all of my friends would know that I would be the one to endure it too. Why can’t my life be cool instead of goofy?