It's like Sex and the Suburbs and 30 Rock all rolled into one…
My mother unfortunately passed down a gene to me that makes me the focus of crazy people. There’s plenty of stories I can tell about the nutty people that manage to worm their way into my daily existence. Not to sound too Law and Order, but this is a story about law enforcement and crazy people and how the Albany Police gave me a stalker for a night.
In a matter of a small miracle, I got out of work early Thursday and rather than driving home and back, decided that tofu fries from Bombers was a mandatory affair. (There’s nothing better than fries, rice, cheese and deep fried BBQ tofu. Perfect way to start a holiday weekend.) While walking down the street, a vagrant stood in front of the church on Lark St, shouting. Two police officers started to calm him down, and I decided this was the perfect time to cross the street and avoid the scene entirely. It’s not that mentally disturbed people bother me; I work in the mall after all. Perhaps its that I suffer from being a girl from the suburbs and displays such as the one before me that night still put me on edge, give me concern for my general well-being. It really didn’t matter – one of the officers beckoned me over.
Turns out I knew him. Or well, I had danced with his girlfriend one night. He had liked watching us. So while calming down the crazy old man, the officer introduced me to his partner and proceeded to comment on how I can shake it. Well, this normally would have been pretty flattering, except that the old man began to fixate on me and announced that I was beautiful. The two officers admitted that I was, one even commenting that I had a great ass. (And in that skirt, yeah, it’s epic.) This was time to exit the situation. I really hadn’t wanted to be in it anyway, but when the police call you over… Well, I was raised that you follow orders when it comes from a uniform.
I thought that the incident had passed, and I could move onto my night of beer, karaoke, and dancing. With a purposeful stride, I marched back down Lark St, intent on a coffee to jolt me up until the end of the night. I had to pass the church. There he was – sans cops. Head down, I was intent to ignore him. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him cross the street to approach me. He said I was a celebrity and he wanted my photo taken with him. Cell phone at the ready, he waved it at me and tried to keep up. (My long legs give me a pretty wicked stride when I’m determined.) I blew past him, my back to his cat calling, and grunts at the sight of my backside in a tight micro-mini.
As I ducked into Crisan, he shouted – having followed me – “Honey, I would never actually do that to you!” So thank you Albany Police Department for a great story to tell my friends when they met me for drinks.