Making friends part deux

Jack London wrote about hating a man with a moon face. Everything about the man drove the narrator crazy. As it so happens my mother used to place her thumb on my nose and make an arc with her pinky sticking out. She said if she had a compass she could trace a perfect circle around my face. "Your face is perfectly round." My father thought that was funny. Once after taking a heavy course of steroids because of a reaction to poison sumac my father said "Oh, look [your face is] just like the moon."

Which is why I cannot understand for the life of me why strangers come and talk with me. Evil Twin #2 and I once had an experiment in college to record the number of time we get asked for directions. I cannot remember the exact figures, but I did get asked a lot more times that she. ET#2 used to think it was hilarious that if we were in a park kids, dogs and old people tend to gravitate towards me. I used to think it was like how cats only rub up against people they know fear them.

One would think that this would diminish with age. I wear headphones often, but that has not seemed to cut down on my approachability quotient. For instance this morning I got three "Excuse me, Miss" from a mother and her daughter pair who needed directions to Children's Hospital.

Yesterday, the weather was a perfect 75 degrees, sunny with not a cloud in the sky. I was a little hungover from the night before as I had forgotten the cardinal rule of not mixing kinds of alcohol. Needing some greasy lunch, I walked over to my favorite Thai restaurant, ordered a noodle dish. I picked up a seltzer and on my way home decided to eat it in a mini seating area on Beacon Street. Although I did not have a mirror, I can only imagine the glazed over look in my eyes as I chomped on my noodles.

"Oh that smells good, where did you get it," said a lady with permed white hair and two Trader Joe bags. She sat down next tom even though there were three other benches empty.

"At the take-out joint over by Summit." I replied.

"I'm taking a break. These benches a perfect half way place to sit with my bags. I live over there on Park Ave." (Okay, crazy lady. Why are you telling me where you live?) "It is a really beautiful day out don't you think?"

"Uh huh," I answer. Normally, I am a little more talkative, but all I really wanted to do was get something into my stomach.

She pressed on, "Where are you from?"

"California"

"I'm from New York, we just moved here six years ago."

"I went to school in New York, " I said. That was there trigger she needed. She lived on 90th and Riverside for 35 years. Now the neighborhood is too gentrified. She went on about how Boston is expensive too and her grand kid are so inappreciative of what they have. She reads a lot. The current book she is reading is "Small Village." But she really loves spy novels. Did I like spy novels? She saw the "Constant Gardner" the other day. It was not a good movie because it was too commercial. Her cousin just called her earlier and said she walked out on "Urinetown" but left her husband there. Don't I think that is funny?

I sat there and nodded my head. My stomach was feeling better though I could not let out the huge belch I had planned. I got up as she was telling me about neighbors that were Chinese.

"Oh look at the time. I guess I have to go. It was nice meeting you," I said.

She replied, "My name is J. I hope I see you around. It's so nice to talk to young people. I'll remember Ludlum and Archer (spy novelists, I recommended)"

I waved and walked home. I kind of hope I do meet with J again under better circumstances, like my head not pounding out its skull. Despite my moon face, guess friends can be made at any time.