Almost every morning at work, I head over to the post office to pick up the mail. I tend to bump into the same cast of characters daily; everybody knows what time they stop putting mail in the P.O. boxes, so everyone shows up around the same time.
There's the girl with the blue bag who jaywalks out into traffic because she's obliviously texting away on her cell phone all the time (in four years, I have literally never seen her walking there without a cell phone in hand); there's the old guy who reminds me of my dad's dearly-departed buddy Ray because he has the demeanor of a jolly junk-collector and until recently, he drove a car whose trunk hung about as low to the ground as Ray's did; there's the perfectly able-bodied guy who always pushes the handicap accessibility button to open the doors which drives me nuts because oh my god, it actually takes longer to open the doors that way than if you just pull them AND it lets all the heat out in the winter & all the A.C. in the summer, IT MAKES NO SENSE; and there's a gentleman I refer to as The Dapper Man, because, well...he's dapper. He looks a little something like this:
Most of us post office regulars share informal greetings when we pass one another. A nod, a smile, a quick "hello"--such is small town life.
There is one postal patron, however, who gives me the willies. I call her Krazee-Eyez Killa
(caution: link contains highly salty language). Not because she reminds me of the Curb Your Enthusiasm character in any way whatsoever, but solely because she has CRAZY EYES.
The first time I bumped into her was in the alley behind my office. I looked up and said hello; she just stared at me. And the moment my eyes met hers, I wanted to run for the hills. I don't know how to describe them well enough to adequately detail what makes them crazy: they just are. They're light blue, and icy, but that alone doesn't make for crazy eyes. It's what's behind the icy blue eyes that counts. (Thank you, The Who/Fred Durst.) And I'm pretty sure whatever's firing behind her eyes isn't firing on all cylinders, if you catch my drift.
When my family got its first computer back in 1992 or so, my older brother amassed a small collection of computer games which he eventually abandoned at the house when he left for college. One of them was called SpaceQuest 4: Roger Wilco and the Time Rippers. Me & my younger brother tried playing it a few times, but we could never get past the first level; Roger would walk around the streets of a decimated, post-apocalyptic city, but before we could get anywhere we'd always bump into this silent zombie-like character who would scream when it saw us (and then we'd get blown up by a "Droid-O-Death").
It was annoying, and a little scary, and it hit me today--take away the metallic headgear and the screaming, and that's pretty much the same expression that's on Krazee-Eyez Killa's face.
Whether it's fair of me or not, she freaks me out. Maybe it would help if she smiled once in a while, or if she verbally responded in some small way when I said hello. It does make me wonder what the people I bump into around town think of me, though; maybe, just maybe, I'm somebody's "crazy lady," too?