Surreality

About a week ago I was hanging out with my friend Megan, sharing our list of favorite blogs and whatnot when we were struck with longing taste buds and growling stomachs. Luckily, Bloomingfood's was right around the corner with friendly faces and curried lentils. We leashed up Megan's dog and brought her along for the trip. Scout the dog was oh so happy to be outside of the apartment in construction, and head back to the co-op for round 2 that day. We decided that we might as well sit outside and enjoy the scenery while we ate, so Megan brought Scout over so that she could see us and feel a bit more connected, regardless of the communication barrier which exists between humans and dogs. Sounds like a pretty nice afternoon meal, right? It's amazing how quickly things can happen. I am still a bit stunned by this whole experience. A bit too surreal, and some top of the line comedic material that Larry David would love to get his hands on.

Scout started barking. Barking and barking. I didn't think anything of it, probably because my hunger was blocking any of my sense and not allowing them to function properly. We just talked right over her. But apparently others didn't have the same patience that Megan and I had.

Scout: "Woof! Woof!"
Megan: "Scout!"
Old Lady with menonite hair (bitchily): "Why don't you just tie the dog up next to you!"

"Oh, okay. Sorry," replied Megan. Scout soon joined us, up close and personal, while we ate. I awkwardly attempted to keep conversation going after the confrontation, but Megan seemed a bit distracted and aloof as a result. I didn't know what to do. I felt weird even taking bites of my salad.

"I think we should leave," Megan finally said.
"Oh, okay. Yeah, sure," I responded, a bit relieved thinking that maybe once we started moving and getting blood pumping it would be so tense. I placed my fork in the dirty dish tray and off we went. After we turned the corner and were no longer in site of the other dining patrons, Megan unveiled the source of tension.

"So, that woman that yelled at me is my gynecologist."

What an odd run in. Your gynecologist lecturing you on how to deal with behavioral issues of your dog. Gynecologists should stick to cervixes. Especially when they're jerks in real life.

We're walking and talking about this lady parts doctor when I see my neighbor, Wyatt, with his son's dog, trying to get into a car parked on 7th street.

(Quick profile summary: Wyatt. Looks exactly like one would expect a "Wyatt" to look. Listens to classic rock post-loud clanking weight work out which shakes the picture frames in my apartment. Never listens to music while he works out. Smokes. Heard him & his son fighting around Christmastime about Wyatt's inability to be "grown up," which is why all of his relationships fail. Uses a fleece Indianapolis Colts blanket for a curtain. Enjoys making hamburgers, the aroma of which floods my apartment and provides me with a pleasant surprise when I come home from school late in the evening and smell ground beef seeping through my vents.)

I usually try to avoid Wyatt as much as possible because it's always an awkward conversation. Once I spotted him, I started thinking about how I would approach this situation. While Megan continued to vent about the mean gyno I began to play out in my mind different strategies on how to deal with the ever-approaching Wyatt encounter. "I could just talk the whole time that we walk by him & act like I just don't even see him because I have something really important that I'm saying"...Okay, if he doesn't look up I won't say hello; if he does then I'll ask him how he is, but I won't stop walking. It'll be a brief, mobile exchange. Darnit, he looked up."

"Hey Wyatt, how are ya?"
"Well hey, I'm do-"

Wyatt's dog was not on a leash. While I initiated the conversation I thought, oh, these dogs will probably smell each other and we'll have to stop for them to be friends for a few seconds. That'll just make things even more awkward. But instead, cordial sniffs were traded in for vicious fangs. Wyatt's dog lunged at Scout and attacked her. Megan freaked out. Wyatt yelled at his dog. I stood there, wondering how I didn't come up with a plan of action for "dog fight." But no, that was not the end of it.

Megan, full of frustration from the previous incident with Dr. Rude snapped at Wyatt.

"Why don't you keep your dog on a leash?!"
"Well, I normally DO keep my dog on a leash, but I had things to do and I couldn't put her on a leash!"
"Well, it's inconsiderate to me, my dog, other people, and your dog to not have a leash on her!"
(Maggie, stage right, slowly trying to inch away from both parties with a certain cringe on face)
"Yeah, well what's inconsiderate is not picking up your dog shit and leaving it out in other people's yards!"
(Maggie, a little further up on stage right, wondering what the heck kind of comeback that is?)
"I DO pick up my dog shit!" (point, Megan)
"Yeaaaah, well fuck you!"
"No, fuck you!"

We started towards the crosswalk. I didn't know if I should say goodbye to Wyatt. In a 12 inch voice, I leaned over to Megan and said, "That was my neighbor, Wyatt, the one I was telling you about."