10.31.2004
twofer
Some of the folks in my new neighborhood had a sort of block-party for Halloween. A neighbor whom I hadn't previously met told me about this sometime Thursday; I told him we'd be there if we were back in time. He told me that we should just bring some candy down to the end of the parking lot if we were here.
Anyone who knows me might understand that when I said to him, "Oh, we might do that," what I was really saying was, "If I somehow accidentally find myself at the end of the parking lot with a bag of candy on Sunday night, I'll probably have no choice but to act like I want to be there. But I've got no way of envisioning what could possibly happen that would cause me to be there, then, in that state. So bye."
This isn't because the guy wasn't nice, or because getting together with people in the neighborhood seems like a bad thing. It's because my wife and I both have a fairly serious case of I-feel-better-when-I-don't-have-to-talk-to-strangersitis. It even sounded sort of fun at the time he was asking, but I knew that by the time we were driving back from our trip to the land of the parental persons we'd both be mumbling a thousand excuses about why we wouldn't possibly be able to intentionally walk into a situation where a lot of people neither of us know, but all of whom know each other, are standing around talking about... whatever the hell people talk about when they participate in these weird human rituals.
Nevertheless my wife picked up some candy today. We headed back around 3:30pm; it takes us two hours to get here. My wife had studying to do. I had two hundred and twenty six tiny stress attacks as I grasped fruitlessly for any good solution to the problem of having to drive my car into the parking at exactly the time that the neighbors would probably be setting up for whatever the hell they were going to be doing. We talked about going to the movies, which is what we'd come up with when we talked about this situation on Friday. But she really did need to study.
The best I could come up with was that we'd need to create some sort of diversion. Since my wife actually needed to study, I secretly planned on pulling the car into the lot, and then reaching across, opening her door, and shoving her out where she would be forced to contend with the happy neighbors while I quickly unloaded our stuff into the house. She'd have to say she was going to study, and I'd have had enough time to lock myself in a closet somewhere upstairs.
Unfortunately I turned out to be an inept reach-across-and-open-the-doorer. I fumbled and didn't have time to do anything but just back the car into the spot. I opened the door, prepared to stay stooped as I exited the car, keeping it between myself and the neighbors (they were, like I'd known they'd be, down there around a table, just fifteen yards away from my front door.) The neighbor who had invited us was much too smart for this, though. He somehow knew the car hadn't simply driven itself into the lot. By the time I was getting myself out of my seat he was running up behind the car. "Hello!" he shouted. "We have a ton of food! For some reason most of the people didn't show up. Please eat something! Come! Please!"
He then proceded to explain to my wife what was going on, in case I hadn't already filled her in. We were trapped.
"I'll, we'll, uhm, it'll, just, let me put down my stuff, here, let me, uhm, I guess, we might, we might be back out."
From there I could've hidden, of course. I was standing right there on the side of that bridge, fingers of flame leaping from the head of my torch as I joyously considered burning the fucker. "These people wouldn't understand me anyway!" I thought. "Who needs them! They're all idiots! I have a weblog to update! Twice!" But a thing about me: I rarely have the courage of my convictions. I knew in a few moments I'd be carrying my bucket o' junk food along the sidewalk, and then standing there looking stupid as I stared blankly, and silently, at all of these people who'd have no idea they're supposed to just tell me what to do and point me in the direction of a chair so that I could go about my task of melting into the scenery.
Here's the thing: It was awesome. There were maybe nine other neighbors there, including the family of the guy who invited us, his wife and two kids. All the candy was dumped into a plastic tote-thingy, and we sat around talking about nothing much. I learned how to replace the screens in my windows, which until now I was convinced wasn't a doable thing. (Quick note: I'm not a total moron; there's good reason to think the screens were not replaceable, at least not in the standard way... maybe more on that in the future.) We found out one of our neighbors grew up in West Virginia, in the part that's further out in the same boondock-area from which my wife and I sprouted.
This is, of course, exactly how I knew the experience would probably be. This isn't me explaining how I finally overcame my inabilty to function in normal human society. This is me explaining what I go through, and will continue to go through, everytime I'm asked to leave my cave. This is also, probably, me being entirely inchorent as I try to finish this two-entries-in-the-same-day thing that I've trapped myself into in a hurry so that I can go to bed.
