30 April 2008
The opposite of "funny"
I have been on a quest of Holy Grail proportions (apparently). For a couple of months now, I have been looking for a specific style of shoe. I recently came to the conclusion that what I wanted was so far out of style, it was time to start looking at used clothing stores. Today, I decided to take a trip to the Buffalo Exchange in Berkeley.
As I circled the block looking for a parking space, I noticed a Berkeley police officer behind me. Of course, I became the perfect driver - fully stopping for three seconds at each stop sign, being extra cautious of pedestrians, that sort of thing. I found an excellent parking spot right in front of the store, signal (of course), and pulled in. I looked down, put the car in park, and when I looked up again, I noticed that the cop was sitting next to me. He motioned for me to roll down my window.
Instantly on guard, and nervous, I began reviewing my driving for the last five minutes. I rolled down the window, and flashed my most innocent grin (no really, I have one, just ask my daddy).
"Good afternoon, ma'am"
"oh, don't worry, nothing to be nervous about."
"does your son go to [specific school name] in [specific town]"
At that point, I think he must have realized he'd said something wrong. Either that, or maybe he noticed that all the color drained from my face, and my eyes were filling with tears, as I stammered a Fully Freaked Out, "Yes." Because, suddenly, very quickly he began to explain:
"oh no, don't worry, everything is fine, my kid goes to school there too, I saw you this morning, and just thought it was a funny coincidence."
Is this guy for real?!
I thought I was going to pass out.
vomit. punch him in the face. then pass out.
I have never before in my life wanted to punch a cop. But, he totally would have deserved it.
Because, obviously my first thought was:
"OMFG what happened at my kid's school that a Berkeley cop tracked me down?!"
My next thought was:
"Cop or not, who is this guy who knows me, knows my kid, and knows where he goes to school... a cop as a stalker is probably NOT a good thing."
This is all quite different than trying to explain to security at faire why I don't have my passes with me, and him saying, "don't worry, I know you, go ahead."
Of course, to top it off, I couldn't find the shoes I wanted at that store.
I did however find something that falls into the category of "close enough" at a place in Emeryville. But, I'm thinking it may have been a purchase motivated by emotion. I really want to send a copy of this blog to the Berkeley PD, include a copy of the receipt, and let them know that retail therapy is a form of coping with mental distress... and they now owe me fifty bucks.