I hate myself.

So today I was driving to a session when I spied a guy standing by a car on the side of the road and frantically waving for me to stop.

I am extremely hesitant to stop for folks on the side of the road. I once knew a guy who, after stealing a car, apparently ran it into a ditch and banged himself up and -- now visibly in need of assistance -- stood waving for help on the side of the road. When a family indeed stopped to render aid, he carjacked them at gunpoint. And while I hope and maintain that *most* people wouldn't do this, given my close knowledge of the risks I am wary as all heck when it comes to folks on the side of the road.

Moreover, this relatively isolated curved stretch of road was just off of an exit, and it's a turn I've taken at 80+ miles an hour -- and because at least at one time the main road was as potholed as any Baltimore city street, many drivers would largely forgo the road for the use of the shoulder. This is a dangerous fucking place to be standing outside of a car and trying to catch the eyes of the speed demons flying past. *I'd* never choose that place to stand. And yet I know that if I *were* in that situation I'd really be in trouble, and I'd hope to hell that someone would stop for me. (more...)

A couple things I saw on an afternoon walk yesterday that I wanted to record:

The first: I saw a man getting a haircut in a green space. (I hesitate to call it a yard, though that's probably right -- I have this idea of yards as more deliberately enclosed areas, and these are hilly, grassy areas only bounded by the sidewalk and not obviously yoked to the adjacent town houses.) Notable details about the scene: one, as I encountered them during twilight and they were not using lamps, this seemed rather poor illumination for cutting hair. The other was the cape that barbers drape over clients to shield them from the falling hair -- which, in this instance, was a worn and dingy American flag. The style of haircut the "client" was receiving made me think he might be military, and if that is so I imagine he intended the use of the cape to be a patriotic gesture. It struck me, however, as somehow unseemly. (more...)

So I visited Field of Screams in Lancaster County, PA, last night. As haunts go, it was comparable to other attractions incorporating multiple attractions in terms of quality, though it had a few standout areas -- I particularly enjoyed the multi-floor setup of the Den of Darkness (one ground-level area resembled a frontier saloon/brothel; toward the end there was attic area populated with all manner of creepy dolls), and the layout of the Nocturnal Wasteland was impressive though the theme was kinda weak. (The green light/fog combination they employed to give the visual impression of wading through a toxic swamp was brilliant, though.)

And there was one part that left me especially cold, though that's less the fault of the haunt itself than the actor. And it's not an uncommon thing. (I mean, I wouldn't be a millionaire if I had a dollar for every time it happened -- I haven't been to a million haunts, and not every haunt affords the opportunity for it -- but I could certainly buy a current Marvel Legends figure at a local comic shop markup.) Nearly every time I pass through a redneck cannibal area and the actors can interact with patrons, an actor singles me out to make a crack about "dark meat" or some other reference to the color of my skin. Last night the area was loud and the guy had wrapped his arms entirely around my head, so his speech was muffled, but I think he said, "Papa Ray looooves black meat." Ha ha ha. (more...)

For the first time in... a very long time, today I went to the local swimming pool! Every year I tell myself I'm going to make it to the pool, and every year Labor Day comes and goes without my having gone swimming all summer. I was determined not to let that happen this year, and so -- after planning to leave around noon and not actually making it out the door until shortly after 4pm -- I finally made good on that promise to myself.

And it was great! I dunked myself a bunch of times, "swam" (ie maneuvered for some distance without my feet touching the floor) several "laps" (it was crowded enough that I couldn't swim across the pool lengthwise without running into folks, so I swam the width instead), and stood around moving my arms and legs until I got tired of being in the water and decided to call it a day. I was back home by 5pm. 😛 Still, I'm glad I went.

Now to see if I can make it to the beach while the weather's still nice!

So last night was the first time I ever shouted (in part) out of fear.

First, let me note that I've never properly understood screaming or yelling in terror. Like, I get that it could have certain altruistic advantages -- warning others of danger, for instance. It might also be useful for driving back certain kinds of danger. But also -- at least insofar as the danger isn't right on top of one -- it alerts danger to one's location and betrays one's fearful state. Making noise has never been my instinctive answer to a threat. And when I think about that response, particularly as it relates to my own situation, it seems... unwise.

But last night I was at a stoplight in downtown Baltimore, my thoughts occupied with serious subject matter as I stared into the distance... and then suddenly a face loomed large to my right and a hand seemed to be reaching toward me. I was definitely startled; I jerked back in my seat threw up my hands as if to defend myself. And even before I had consciously registered what this figure was or what was happening, I was waving my arms back and forth and shaking my head and yelling, "Ahhhh! No! No! NO!!!!"

The guy had already squirted and begun to wipe down my windshield, but he held up a hand by way of apology and silently retreated back to the curb.