Nearly Perishing can be an Embarrassing Experience

Last night proved to be even more eventful than Thursday's charming episodes. I honestly don't know what it is about April 24, but trends suggest it's regularly going to be a red-letter day. It's easy to remember because it's my cute little sister-in-law's birthday, but something slightly freaky generally also comes to pass on that fateful date. Last year, it wasn't so bad. Just an old guy telling me he was in love with me. I remember being slightly disturbed. Let's just say I'd take that again over last night.
So things started off very well. I'd had a productive day at work, and also managed to help my mom re-do some window treatments (everyone laughs, but come to mother's house and check out what a certified window expert can do for you!). The family members who could make it had a delicious and fun meal at a local restaurant, where we were also so fortunate to run into a lot of wonderful people-- my aunt and cousin, the owners of some pretty important local landmarks/restaurants who are also just super members of the community, my former high school theater teacher, etc. It was nice. After the family festivities, I picked up my friend Trevor and we went to our friend Victor's baptism, which was one of the best ways I can think of to spend a Friday night. Victor completely rules! I've never seen anyone run to a baptismal font before, but it was pretty amazing.
Anyway, it was not long before people started clearing out and it was time to take Trevor home. On the way, we started talking about his million pets (or five... whatever) and just enjoyed one another's company.
Trev lives in a mother-in-law's quarters on the back of his older brother's property. The easiest way to access his pad is through a gate in an alley. Naturally, I pulled up near his gate to drop him off. We were still discussing Kermit and Merlin (his female tree frogs) and their propensity for making a lot of noise about 5 a.m., when I noticed an old man carrying A GUN coming towards us.
I said rather calmly to Trevor, "Um, there's an old man with a gun coming our way." Trevor looked around and I rolled down the window. The man told us we needed to leave. We tried to explain I was just dropping Trevor off and that they were actually neighbors, but the guy wasn't really interested in any explanations about our right to be there. I suspect he had Parkinson's, as he was shaking quite badly. He was also wearing one of those old man jumpers like my Grandfather Stryjewski used to wear. I kind of looked at him like, "Pappy, don't shoot!" and we drove off.
Poor Trevor. For whatever reason, we're always running into scary situations when we're together, like the time I dropped him off at the Institute after we went hot-tubbing. There was a lady behind the dumpster, and he was sure she was after him.
Anyway, we were both a little too scared to attempt to drive him back home through the alley, and I thought it might be best to wait until the old fellow calmed down and went to sleep. So we drove around for a bit, but ended up at the Institute to wait it out. I mean, we couldn't go to the park, because they close at 10, and the cops love to accuse people of "making love" if they're in the park late at night (David and I used to run into this problem quite a bit, though anyone could see he was boring me to tears with some diatribe or another). Anyway, there were a lot of people out partying in their front yards, and rather than watch the drunks on MLK Blvd. crawl around in impersonations of the dogs partying with them, we pulled over near that infamous dumpster.
So now, here's the really awful part of the evening. You'd think that having someone point a gun directly at you would be the worst, but it wasn't. Nerve-wracking, yes. Trev and I were trying to detox and talk it out. We joked around a bit. It was hot, so we rolled down the windows of my car. Trevor, who had been kind enough to complement my ensemble earlier (his words: "you look really pretty tonight... kinda like a gypsy" and I was in love), was dressed up a bit like a dandy. He wore dark slacks, a red button-down shirt, a silver tie and a (tight) grey vest. Just looking at him in that get-up made me uncomfortable on several levels. First off, I wondered how he could even breathe, and having made unrelated comments earlier (pre-gunslinger), I started to worry about this. Secondly is the truly embarrassing part. For whatever reason-- his health or otherwise-- I soon became fascinated and preoccupied with the idea of unbuttoning that blasted vest, and I told him so. I realize now that this is a very inflammatory statement, and likely makes me appear quite wanton, but the truth will set you free. We continued to chat while I unbuttoned his vest, loosened his tie, and rolled up his sleeves. He untucked that shirt and looked 100 percent better. We popped his collar as well, and he was suddenly a 1980s poster child. He was barely even born in the 80s, so that makes it all the more funny to me. Trevvie and I have an interesting friendship based on mutual respect and admiration, though in the spirit of full disclosure, he is one of my spin-the-bottle friends, right or wrong. Without letting your imaginations run too terribly wild, I'll omit certain details of our few minutes in the Institute parking lot (which were mostly spent talking about random things [Trevor's best statement of the evening: "I'm really in touch with wolves."]). Long story short-- there was a bit of canoodling, but at about the level one would see in one of the "High School Musical" series. Still, this was a private moment of friendship, away from the glare of the frat parties and the tumult of an old man who'd tried to do us in.
There were a few minor disturbances as this portion of the evening unfolded. Trevor has amazing senses-- and perhaps literal eyes in the back of his head-- because he kept noticing things. One inebriated gentleman walked through the Institute parking lot from one party to another, which we found a little disturbing. Of course, I'd never have seen the guy, but Trevor heard and then caught a glimpse of him. Trevor kept hearing odd noises, and we decided it was time to go home.
As we pulled out of the parking lot, Trevor told me he thought he'd seen someone behind the dumpster again. I thought he was only trying to scare me. He said, "Isn't that a jacket?" I said, "No, that's just the wheel. Well, it does look like a jacket, but I'm sure it's not-- AAGGHH!! FEET! I SEE FEET!" Someone was actually sleeping under the Tute dumpster! Or at least lying there, listening to me ask Trev if I could unbutton his vest and our conversation about pity kisses. T and I screamed like little girls, which is really ok for me, as I am female, but simply frightening coming out of a man as big as a boulder and whose voice is usually a rich baritone. We peeled out of the parking lot, nearly ripping the security gate down, and decided we can never hang out again because too many scary things happen to us together.
So, yes, I had my first-ever gun pointed at me last night, but truthfully I was much more alarmed about the likely-helpless homeless person who I should have reached out to in compassion, but instead was angry at for listening in on my ill-advised attempts at flirting. I'm pretty much not going back to the Institute anymore except for Sunday church.