Um…no.


I’ve had a good run of running into people who are either on drugs, or need some professional help.

Perhaps I shouldn’t start in such an intense fashion. Perhaps my perception of what is in these situation requires clarity, and exposition. For example:

I drive to my Monday night gig. I get there a little early; I like to listen to the band that goes on before the band in which I am playing (I had to fight stubbornness so that I would not end the previous sentence with a preposition. Damn you grammar nazi bastards), and the waitstaff/barstaff and I are pretty cool with each other, so it’s a pretty decent hang. However, I’m looking too far ahead right now. Rewind.

So I get into the parking lot behind the club, and park my car. As soon as I kill the engine, I look out of the driver’s side window, and there’s this woman standing in the parking lot.

Staring intently at me from across the parking lot. With a Joker-esque wide-eyed smile. We’re talking Cesar Romero Joker here.

I’m not sure what the deal is there, so I collect my things, and get out of the car. This woman was in the fifty to sixty years of age range. She’s wearing this red and yellow kind of billowy outfit, and she was adorned with much turquoise. Really, she was wearing enough turquoise for me to be concerned. Upon sight of her, I wondered if she spent a lot of time in people’s houses, reading Bible verses at the top of her lungs, while pulling small children from the demonic temporal plane that just happens to be housed inside their living room television.

I collect my things, and get out of the car. As soon as my door opens, this woman shouts, “Hey!”

I look and say, “Yes?”

“Ya got any weed?”

“No.”

I walk in the club.

A few minutes later, I join a few people outdoors, in front of the club. There are a few tables, and if the summertime heat has yet to become “destroy everything that lives” unbearable, it’s a nice, chill, spot to chat; without interrupting the performance going on indoors. That’s exactly what’s happening….well, until the Poltergeist lady came around the corner, and that’s when I saw it again–that same, weird wide-eyed smile. This time, its at the end of a length of tables and chairs all occupied by folks who are now turning their attention to her.

“Hi!!”

everyone, collectively: ..Hey…

“Y’all got any weed?”

“No.”

Then she proceeds to stand there, with that same creepily maudlin smile. Eventually, the owner came outside, and immediately upon sight of this woman, begins a profanity-laced tirade, because apparently he had banned her from the place about a week prior for some sort of infraction, of which I didn’t get the details. While this is going on, another musician homie shows up, I rise to greet him, and we start talking. As we are catching up in conversation, a random guy walks up to me.

He says: “Hey man, I wanna ask you a kinda fucked up question.”

I say: “Okay…”

“Which way is Louisiana?’

“That’s waaaay east of here.”

Which way is East?”

I silently point him in an eastward direction.

He went that way, and kept walking.

I don’t know what’s going on, but either there is a serious mental illness problem in Dallas, or there are a lot of people on some serious reality-altering drugs, I mean…that’s The Hangover levels of debauchery if you:

  1. Live in one state, and wake up in another,
  2. And… you intend to walk back to your state of origin, even if its hundreds of miles away. What are you, Cain from Kung Fu on a Shaolin pilgrimage?! Honestly, I’d rather not know. Be careful in your travels, and Peace be upon you.

And Peace be upon y’all too. Later.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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