Earlier today, while listening to random songs that Spotify chose for me while my brain toiled away at spreadsheets and boring website data lists, a Tom Waits song came on that I hadn't listened to in a while. As he growled and sputtered, the image of a cartoon eel floated into my head, followed by the sound of him growling out the words, "Chomp, chomp, chomp!"
Then I somehow recalled a toddler-me making my parents roll with laughter over my impersonation of that same eel over and over in what they would refer to as my "truck driver voice," often begging me to perform it for other people (which would send me running for my bedroom, where I'd hide for the rest of the night).
A vision, however, made me recall something more recent, but no less buried, later in the evening of that same day. Leaving my gym, I caught a glimpse of the Waffle House way across the parking lot and on the other side of the street ... one that I completely forget is even there, despite driving past it at least 3 or 4 times a day. A flash of a drunken first and last date flitted through my head.
Did I really do that? Yes. Really, you ask? Yes, really.
One, I'm guessing, particularly masochistic night, after returning home from an evening with a man whom I'd been dating and having relations, but who was still keeping his "options open" and had just told me that I needed to date "more like a man," I came home in the wee hours of the morning and got right back on the dating site where I'd met him, figuring I'd see him online there, likely chatting with someone new.
And I did, of course, which made me think, "Well, fine! I'll just do the same!"
I made myself available for instant messaging and waited. Within minutes, another gent was chatting me up. At 4 in the morning.
It turned out that he was local ... very local ... like 5 miles from me local ... and he suggested we just go for it and meet somewhere. Yes, at 4 in the morning. And I said, "Sure, why not."
What? Wait, it gets better ... and by "better," I mean more ridiculous.
I actually got in my car, with a few too many Stohli vanilla and cokes in me and drove up to our agreed "date" location: that Waffle House around the corner from where I live, and across from where my gym is now.
At 4 in the morning.
Pulling into the parking lot, it was blue light specials everywhere. About half-dozen cop cars, lights flashing, had descended upon the parking lot, and there was no in or out.
I sat there a minute thinking, "Is this a sign?" But then instead of turning around and going home, I sat there longer, until one of the cops approached my minivan.
Cop: "Are you a family member of the victim?"
Me: "What? No. I'm meeting someone. What victim?"
Cop: "In the middle of the night? That's a little odd."
Me: "I like odd, but what about a victim?"
Cop: "Oh, it's nothing. Stabbing. Should be clear to go inside now."
Me: "Shit! I'm going home!"
Hehehe, no, I'm not that bright when I've been drinking... and yes, I'm having this whole conversation with a cop while smelling like vodka and sitting behind the wheel at 4am like it's totally normal. Instead, I said something like, "Awesome! Thanks!"
So I parked among the flashing blue lights and went inside, finding my "date" already in a booth. Did he witness the whole stabbing? Had he been party to it? Did I consider any of this? No, because apparently I wanted a spot on UNSOLVED MYSTERIES.
He was probably 15 years older than me and the pictures he'd posted online. Also, he was wearing a long-sleeved polo shirt covered in Winnie the Pooh pictures. I don't remember much about our conversation, but I do remember that shirt. And trying not to laugh. I think I focused on the grim possibilities of the stabbing, and got the server involved to give more details (it happened in the parking lot, but started inside as a fight over one of the dudes playing a song on the jukebox a dozen times in a row ... so don't do that, no matter how funny it seems at the time).
The only things I do remember from the conversation were the parts about him never having been married, nor did he ever have a long-term relationship, despite being in his late 40s, and that he still lived with his mom. Actually, I think I put it in those terms, like, "You live with your mom!?" He corrected me with, "No, I live in an apartment above her garage, with its own kitchen and everything, so I'm not dependent upon her." I think I amusingly slurred, "And hey, no curfew, so that's a bonus!"
I seem to recall the conversation winding down considerably after that.
I don't remember his name or anything else about the guy, and I don't think I've done anything nearly as stupid as that night/morning, although I did come close a couple other times. It was always "for the story" in the early days of this blog ... and yet, I never blogged this one. Probably because I couldn't remember any of it the next day, until something jarred the cobwebs loose tonight.
Memory is a funny thing, isn't it? A buried early-childhood memory and a blurried early-thirties memory coming back in the same day. Once again, I think Mr. Waits was somehow responsible for both.
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