This evening, in a restaurant, I reached for my wallet to pay my bill, and it was not there. Fortunately, it was on the car seat, where I had tossed it earlier in the evening, because I am a paranoid, paranoid, paranoid girl. I had been filling up my car with gas in a dark and lonely Sam's Club parking lot immediately before meeting friends for dinner, when I suddenly noticed that both the other cars filling up had pulled away and the only living soul around was a scary looking guy, leaning against his car and smoking. I naturally assumed that he was leaning against his car, smoking, and plotting how to (a) kidnap me (b) mug me or (c) hijack my car. Sooo, I tossed my wallet (which I was holding in my hand), into the car, onto the car seat, to minimize the likelihood that I'd be held at knifepoint by the parking lot man. Fortunately, he was just a smoker, not a hijacker.
Last week, I suspected one of our library patrons of having a bomb. He looked nervous and kept glancing at me when he got off the elevator (probably because I was sizing him up so I would have a good description to give to the police when I reported him for bringing a bomb into the library). I also thought I heard a metallic clanking coming from his bag. So, I called another librarian and made her promise to keep an eye on him. Just in case.
Once when I arrived at work early in the morning, there was an elevator repair truck in the parking lot. I IMMEDIATELY thought, That's the way the members of Tom Cruise's team infiltrated the FBI in Mission Impossible. Except with fire trucks. Same principle. I wonder if this truck is legit or if I should go ahead and call dispatch right now.
And there was that time I was on the metro in Russia late at night by myself. The only other person in my car was a middle-aged man. Part way through our ride, he reached inside his jacket. I was CERTAIN he was reaching for a gun and I was furiously plotting my escape and searching my brain for the appropriate Russian phrasing of Help! This man has a gun. It was actually cigarettes he was after, but you just never know.
Constant vigilance.
2 comments:
Oh my gosh! That happened to me this afternoon! This guy was walking up the stairs, carrying this bag, and I heard clanking and thought, "is it a bomb? There was that guy with all those wires here awhile back, and they thought he was building a bomb... is it the same guy?" So I not-too-subtlely turned around and got a good look at him and his bag before going downstairs. Same guy, maybe?
Also, I laughed along with your gas-station thought process, because I do that, too! I assume that every solitary, scary-looking guy is automatically out to get me.
I am concerned about your brain. Perhaps some books about calm, rational thought should be acquired--and read.
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