One shot of tequila away from vigilante
Surprising things happen when you open yourself up to them.
Weekend plans were minimal. I was hosting a girls’ night at the apartment Saturday night, and Sunday morning we would try out a new (to us) church. The rest we would improvise.
When I mentioned on Facebook a while back that Matt and I had learned how to make baked chimichangas, my friend Courtney proposed that we have a girls’ night and have chimichangas and margaritas. Sounded like a great time to me, so everyone pitched in for our Mexican-food fiesta.
Matt helped make the chimichangas and then left to get pizza and catch a movie with one of his friends. We popped in a movie and ate from the generous spread. The margaritas only had a teensy bit of tequila in them to ensure safe travel home. Unfortunately, the girls’ couldn’t stay very long because of the hour-long drive back from Seattle.
After all of my friends had gone, I guessed that Matt would still be gone for a couple hours. Bored and somewhat lonely, I wasn’t quite sure what to do. The stillness of the apartment was somewhat eerie. A book couldn’t keep my focus. I wasn’t tired enough to sleep.
I made another margarita. Then I turned on the XBOX and pulled out Fable II.
Matt finished Fable II probably a month ago. While he was playing it, he could hardly be pulled away. When he proudly proclaimed that he had finally bought the castle, I just patted him on the head and said, “That’s nice, dear.”
By the time Matt rolled in the door sometime shortly after midnight, he found me there on the couch, squinting at the screen. If you had asked him before he came home what he thought his wife would be doing, he probably would have guessed that I was doing aerobics naked before he would have ventured that I was drunk and playing Fable II.
That was only the first time I surprised my husband last weekend.
The next day, after attending church downtown, we decided to take advantage of the weather and walk around Seattle. We strolled along the waterfront and got some fish and chips at Ivar’s. We ate in the undercover area and watched as harebrained tourists nearly lost fingers to the seagulls they were feeding.
Matt and I were just finishing our meal when a man burst in to the eating area.
“Excuse me ladies and gentlemen,” he shouted a little too loudly. “Someone just took my sister’s and my duffle bag. It had everything in it, our ferry passes, our wallets–everything. The ferry tickets are fourteen dollars each.” After a silence he added, ” I have money at home, I swear I’ll pay it forward.”
Maybe it was the way he stuttered when he said “sister,” or maybe it was the way he announced it to everyone a little more loudly than necessary, but I didn’t feel like giving any money to this man. I don’t think anyone else there was really eager to give him their cash either, because no one moved as they wrestled inwardly with their consciences.
“I only have a $20,” I muttered to Matt, insinuating that I wasn’t going to cough up any cash for this man. To my dismay, Matt pulled out his wallet to look at what bills he had.
“Thank you. Thank you.” Muttered the man, even though Matt had said nothing to him and had not even pulled out a bill yet. The man remained a few feet away, and didn’t turn to face Matt, just glanced at his wallet out of the corner of his eye, while keeping an eye on the man across the room who had also pulled out his wallet. I knew Matt was going to give the man something, but I hoped it would be minimal. One five dollar bill would do. But Matt, more generous than I, handed the man two fives. I inwardly cringed.
The man took everyone’s money, which I’m guessing ended up being much more than the $28 he said he needed, and breezed back through the doors and down the sidewalk.
Matt and I ditched our trash and began walking down the street. I noticed the man ahead of us, heading toward the ferry terminal, but it didn’t look like there was a woman with him. Matt and I watched suspiciously.
When he reached the ferry terminal and turned left, away from the water, we really started to doubt his story. “Let’s follow him!” I proposed.
In his red jacket and black cargo pants, he wasn’t difficult to miss. We followed him across the street and a couple blocks up, and Matt saw him slip into a dive bar.
Dirty. Rotten. Liar.
We walked to the entrance of the bar and tried to inconspicuously peek in the windows.
“We should go in there and ask him to buy us a drink,” I scoffed.
If we hadn’t just eaten and it hadn’t been 12:30 in the afternoon, I would have. But I was wary of entering the establishment without more of a plan.
We stood outside and debated what to do. Matt was ready to leave, thinking that there was nothing else we could do. Neither of us really wanted to go in. But by now I was seething with indignation. I would not give up that easily!
As Matt started walking away, I followed. But I looked back. And then I looked back again. On the third time I looked back, I caught Matt’s attention. “There he is!”
He came strolling out of the bar and headed in the opposite direction to us. We immediately turned and followed.
He continued walking up the hill and turned the corner, his pace more leisurely now that he had gotten his fix. He stopped occasionally and picked pennies and cigarette butts from the ground. Matt and I hung half a block behind. When he stopped, we chatted and admired our surroundings. When he moved, we moved.
He stopped at the window of a corner bookstore. I looked directly at him as we turned and looked at the books in the opposite window. We could see him on the other side, just staring at the books and smoking a dirty cigarette butt. When we could fake conversation no longer, we walked down the hill a ways and out of sight. I checked periodically to see if I could spot the top of his head. When he had moved on, we came around the corner and followed.
He was completely aimless. We had to slow down or stop several times to keep a distance. He stopped again to smoke and stare in another store window. We again crossed the street and stood around the corner until he moved. When he made his way up the hill, we crossed the street ran up the hill, ducking behind the parked cars.
“So what are we going to do? Push him into traffic?” Matt asked.
“No, I just want to make him nervous.” I said.
It became clear that he had noticed us. He started looking over his shoulder as he walked. And he examined us at intersections as we waited to cross. He started waiting to cross the street until right before the light changed from white man to red hand.
By now we were near the main library branch, and I asked Matt if he wanted to keep following this guy or go to the library. Well, as it turns out, we could do both. At first I thought he was going past the library, but then, turning once again to see us still following, he crossed the street and backtracked, disappearing into the libary. I saw him through the glass wall after he entered, and it looked like he was heading for the escalator up to the third floor.
When Matt and I made it inside, we ran up the escalator and were faced with another entrance.
“I bet he went out this way,” said Matt.
We pushed through the spinning door and ran to the end of the block and looked up and down the street. No sign of him. We didn’t go to the other end of the block and look that way. We returned to the library. Now that we had lost him, he could be anywhere.
At this point, I had enjoyed the little adventure, but we were surrounded by books. BOOKS! I could no longer focus on the manhunt. Matt and I walked up and down all of the stories of the library, but saw no sign of the con-man. And then I looked at books.
At the end of the day, I was still upset that we had been conned. But, on the other hand, Mr. Wonderful and I shared a priceless adventure together. And, even though he knows me better than almost anybody, I was still able to surprise him.
This weekend Matt got to see a side of me that doesn’t come out very often. The side that isn’t afraid to act out of character.
That is quite an adventure. Sounds like good material for a book of your own. You had me at “hiding behind cars”. Where is that old Harriet the Spy gear anyway?
2-24-10 at 7:18 pm