I was standing in the check out lane at a Wal-Mart, (actually that is a horror story on its own) and a grossly over-weight woman in front of me started humming and twitching to an unheard beat in her headphones. What made this even more absurd is she was wearing a revealing sheer pink ballerina dress barely containing the rolls of fat bulging from all sides. Everyone in line stepped back in unison, pulled out their smartphones and started tapping and swiping on the screens, pretending not to notice.
Like a man not fast enough to step back with the rest of the line, I had the unfortunate luck of being right behind the now singing and twisting womanlike mass. I had little to no room for escape. Suddenly in the middle of a Nicki Minaj refrain, she quickly turned, looked me directly in the eyes and purred, "You want to follow me home? I have beer!" she demonstrated by dangling a six-pack of Bud Light above her head before setting it gently down on the counter. She smiled and winked. A chill ran down my spine.Why I didn't suddenly bolt from the line on a dead run out of Wal-Mart screaming in terror, I do not know. I had every right; anyone in that line would have backed me. Except maybe for that bald overweight guy in the middle of the line, which was leaning at a 90-degree angle, leering at the enormous ballerina dancer/singer in front of me.
I felt a large drop of sweat travel down my forehead and start to merge into my eyebrow. The distant ring of a cash register reminded me that my window of escape was closing.
But I was frozen in fear and saw no dignified route of escape, I spoke plainly and carefully to her, even as my insides were Jell-O and my lips were trembling, "It is tempting, but I have other plans, but thank you for the offer." Forget the fact my plans were to become a couch potato that evening and enjoy some beer.
'Ok.' she replied as she swung around to pay the trembling cashier, 'You don't know what you're missing.'
I had no answer nor wish to reply to her, so I slow turn to look at the people in line behind me, as if for support. No one met my gaze. They continued to tap on their smartphones, inspect their finger nails and look up at the ceiling while rubbing the back of their neck. That is except for one who was still at a 90 degree angle, leering at the ballerina with a crazed look in his eyes. Several times he broke his steady stare to look at me, nod his head in her direction with the unspoken look of "What you waitin' for? GO FOR IT!"
That evening, I double checked my door locks, decided no on the beer and poured myself a large glass of Bushmill. Then sat down and watched two horror movies just to calm my nerves.
