cold-shouldered

I went to bridgehead to hang out tonight and to get some quilt designs done that have been hauting me for ages. For the most part, my night was pretty uneventful. The resident staff were playing jack johnson, the arcade fire, and stars, so musically, I was kept fairly well entertained (thank goodness for none of that world-beat mocha java stuff).

All was well. Until....

Around 9 or 9:30,an elderly gentleman came in and, strangely enough, demanded that all of us who were sitting on the benches change locations. There were only three of us on the bench, so this wasn't a big deal. It was odd, though. Apparently, whomever put them in this morning put them in backwards. So, big bench switcheroo over with, everyone's seated again.

Then, I get next-door-neighbour seat company. At this point, it's nearly empty, so for someone to come sit right next to me is a little bit odd. It's an older guy, or, rather, older than me by easily 15 years. He seems to be friends with the guy next to him but he's staring right at me.

After a few minutes, he starts speaking under his breath, asking no one in particular (? me ?) if they want a coffee, what their plans are tonight, almost as if he's practicing conversation starters in his head, but he's saying them out loud, accidentally. The disconcerting part was when he started checking me out. Looking me up and down like I was a piece of candy. Eew. When I went to get up and leave, putting on my coat, packing up my books, he started talking more animatedly under his breathe, stoping this only to look me directly in the eye and say "have a good night!" nice and loud. What could I do but wish him a good night too, and walk home a little more speedy than usual?

Odd odd odd odd odd. Sometimes I forget I live in slightly-off-kilter centretown, but there are good reminders out there, aren't there?