From Jun 18, 2008

I had an unusual experience driving home from work yesterday.

I’m sitting on 8th Avenue, waiting for a light to turn green. I hear a man screaming as loud as he can, hooting and hollering. Singing, if you will. Serenading.

“Well that’s a bit odd,” I think to myself.

Sort of peeking around, I see no pedestrians staring up at a balcony, with no swooning girl looking down at him in bewilderment.

I see no ragged beggars on the corners seeking attention. No Jehovah’s Witness men on bicycles touting Jehovah’s Word. No jousting actors fighting for a dramatic end.

“This hooter and hollerer must be a driver,” I conclude. I mean, what other logical explanation is there?

To my astonishment, it WAS a driver. And as he drove past me, I realized he was hooting and hollering at me.

Blood rushed to my cheeks even in the ninety degree weather. He’s looking at me, driving next to me shouting, “You’re BEAUTIFUL! I love you! I love beautiful people!!!!”

Certainly I’m not the only person to have noticed this odd behavior. Everyone is now checking me out as they pass me.

He continued to holler at me as 8th Avenue dumped into 6th. He weaved in and out of traffic to prove his masculine ability to drive like a crazy (in love) man.

Finally, I gasped for air and realized I had been holding my breath when he exited 6th on Wadsworth. I had been nervous that he was going to crash demonstrating how beautiful I am to him.

*blows the manic/drunk/weird guy kisses goodbye*