|Just like that, weirdness happens..
||[Nov. 2nd, 2009|05:10 pm]
Renegade Necrophile Princess
The strangest thing happened to me, today. I was on the bus, minding my own business and gaping openly at this hot guy I seem to be running into quite often, these days. I felt something buzz on my lap, and thinking it was my cellphone telling me something, I reached into my pocket.
Nothing. No messages. No voicemails. No missed calls.
Back to gaping.
And then I feel something buzz, again. Intrigued, and realizing that this pleasing sensation was actually coming from my purse, I reach into the pocket that I sometimes stash my phone, only to find this weird alien cellphone sitting there.
Now, I drunkenly lost my phone at a friend's house over the weekend, so I think: no problem. I'll just call Alisha and see if anyone is missing their phone.
Turns out, Nope.
So.. now I'm really confused. Time goes by.. and I feel this alien phone buzzing again. Oh! A call! So I answer it.
An odd little conversation occurs, in which a man sounds rather confused as to why a woman is talking to him. I can only imagine this is because well.. this isn't my phone. After about five minutes of explaining, I finally let this man know that no, I am not 'Marty', and no.. I have no idea where this telephone has come from.
He kindly informs me that he'll let Marty know who has his phone. At this point, I play the waiting game, again.
And another call comes in. I answer, only to find that I am now speaking to the actual owner of this phone. This is a good sign. I politely ask him if he was at Alisha's party over the weekend. Nope.
"I live in Cloverdale..." he explains.
That's funny. I haven't been anywhere near that area in some time.
"Well, were you at the Celtic Times on Saturday?" I ask eagerly.
"No, I was at a football game..."
Huh. Now it is starting to get weird. How the fuck did I get this phone!?
The conversation goes on.. each of us absolutely bemused as to how I ended up with his phone in the first place. Finally, I agree to meet him at a gas station across the street from campus on my lunch break so that I can return his ill-begotten cellphone.
I bring a small army of friends with me. I'm not a dumb girl. I know that sometimes people do strange things in the hopes of luring pretty young women into their grasp, so I had backup. When the man rolls up in his truck, I'm hoping to recognize him. To get some sort of inkling as to -how- I ended up with his telephone in my purse.
I've never seen this person before in my -life-.
It was a rather anticlimactic exchange, to be honest. I handed him the phone, he asked me if I knew a man named 'Darrel', which I do, but it wasn't the Darrel he was asking about.. and then he drove off.
Didn't even say thank-you.
At the end of all of this.. I keep thinking to myself, that I am probably going to go to my grave..never knowing how the hell I got ahold of that damned phone.