Stranger Danger

During the time when I was just beginning to realize that I was desperately, breath-stealingly unhappy in my marriage, I decided to take a trip to see Ava for the weekend. I needed to see her. We all have this deceptive veil through which we see our own problems, and she has this amazing ability to untangle my convoluted issues and lift the veil, giving me clarity. I booked the trip figuring that it would allow me a weekend of a ridiculous amount of laughter as well as some sort of catharsis and perhaps resolution. (It did, but that's not the point of the story.)

On my way out to see Ava, I was in City Airport at one of those booksellers to buy a ridiculously expensive bottle of water and the line snaked out the door, stretching halfway to the next bookseller. After what seemed like hours in line (ok, 10 minutes) I finally approached the cashier, at which time a man dressed in a ratty, hole-ridden tank top and stained khaki shorts practically pushed me out of the way to get there first. The cashier seemed to know him and the sparkling stars in her eyes were almost tangible as she went into her dreamy celebu-trance, forgetting about everyone else in line.

I'm no shrinking violet and I was not in a mood to be pushed out of the way by some homeless dude after waiting 10 whole minutes to pay a million stinking dollars for a bottle of water, so I put my hand on his shoulder and spun him around.

"Um, no," I said to him. "Why don't you be a gentleman and wait your turn like everyone else."

And then I realized that this was a man I grew up with, a guy I idolized as a kid, watching him jump in and out of his white van as he saved the day.

It was Mr. T.

I wasn't star-struck by any means, since I've had my share of celebrity run-ins especially in my bartending years, but I giggled like an idiot anyway.

"Mr. T! I just heard you on Howard Stern, you were great!"

"Well, thank you, little lady. You mind if I go ahead of you? I'm late for my flight." He speaks in person exactly as he speaks on TV and radio. It tickled me.

"Sure, I understand." I had another hour before my flight left. I supposed it was no skin off of my back and the other people in line were whispering and smiling, so I figured they didn't mind either.

As the cashier rang up his purchases, he turned to me and said, "You a very beautiful lady. You married?"

"Thanks. And yes, I am."

"Well, I hope your husband appreciates you. He a lucky man."

"Thank you. He does," I lied.

"Have a nice flight, pretty lady."

"You too, Mr. T."

As I turned to leave the bookseller's, I couldn't figure out why I was dangerously close to tears and had such a lump in my throat. I figured it was something akin to stranger danger, because it's funny how a single statement from a person wholly unknown to you can crystallize your heartbreak and bring it to the surface after you've been fighting, denying and pushing it down for so long.

But at least Mr. T had turned out to be a gentleman in the end. He bought the bottle of water for me.