When I was in high school, my cousin and I decided to try a new restaurant. If you think I’m an extreme introvert now, you should have seen me back then. After we waited some time for a table we were seated and I began to take in the layout of the place. It was crowded and loud, your normal restaurant feel. Waiters were scurrying about to help their guests and people talked and laughed at their own table or booth.

Most teenage girls try to look cute and keep an eye out for ‘the one’ but let’s be real, I’ve never really been one to do all that. People were lucky I wore makeup and brushed my hair. Plus, I have more important things to do; like eat. I didn’t find Mr. Perfect that day, what I did find however was my topic for my next therapy session.

They sat us at our booth, we got the one at the end and I chose the side that had a fancy little hook up attached to the back of my seat. It was a plate holder; I’m not sure why I noticed it. The thing was almost packed full of plates. I sat down and started looking through the menu.

Our order had just made it out to the table when I happened to glance over into the crowd. There was a woman walking towards our booth, she was a waitress there and she seemed to be focused on something. She was a larger woman, very beautiful-with a strong personality. She moved through the crowd intent on getting to wherever she was going. She stopped literally right beside my seat in order to let someone from the kitchen pass by with a tray full of food and for a brief moment we made eye contact. Which I try not to do for many reasons, this is one.

While looking straight at me she said, “Excuse me honey, I need to go beat this..” (Well you know.)

So let’s stop right there for a minute. On a side note, I have never in my life fought another person, nor do I want to. I don’t like conflict, I don’t like screaming and yelling, I don’t want to be shoved or punched. In plain terms, I don’t fight. You could even go so far as to say, I can’t fight. I can’t walk without tripping and you’ve probably read my blog about the ‘one’ time I did decide to run- spoiler alert: It didn’t work out. I’m not agile in any sense of the word. I’ve seen a few fights and it seems to me you’ve got to have some pretty good hand-eye coordination, which is another thing I do not possess. So I know better, I’d get killed if I ever tried it.  I’m more of a ‘stand to the side in wide eyed disbelief as things unfold' person.

This is no secret either. I have told my family, friends, and colleagues point blank, “If you’re ever with me, don’t get into a fight. If you do, don’t expect me to get involved. I won’t. I’ll be over in the corner praying for you or calling an ambulance but that’s going to be the extent of my involvement.”

So that being said, I looked straight back at her and said, “Okay.”

I’ll admit, it was something of a bewildered ‘okay’, somewhere between ‘stranger danger’ and ‘check please’. The lady passed by me and was gone. I thought that was strange and mentioned it to my cousin who just laughed it off. I had no clue why the woman was upset and had no plans to get involved, I just hoped whoever she was going for was ready. She was MAD.

I had a mouth FULL of mashed potatoes when all those dishes I mentioned earlier came crashing over in a sudden whirlwind of hysteria. At first I thought someone had tripped and lost their food, until I looked over my shoulder just in time to see the waitress throw this other girl towards my direction.

And no, I don’t mean she pushed her in that general direction or that the girl moved willingly in the direction. This waitress THREW this stick of a woman out into the middle of the floor. In their sudden altercation they both tripped over one another and fell. So now the waitress is on top of the woman, they’re screaming and yelling; pulling hair. Then they began to roll across the floor as they hit each other, and rolled RIGHT INTO MY SEAT!

It almost seemed to go in slow motion until I realized they were about to climb into my lap. I stood up quickly in my seat at the booth as they rolled under our table and then back out again. At that point, I’m done; I’m leaving. Or at least I want to but the problem is, I can’t. I’m cornered. They’re in front of me cutting off my only escape route, if I go across the table I land in someone else’s lunch, if I go over the back of my seat I land in a pile of broken dishes and behind me is a wall that goes at least eight feet before reaching the next booth. I’ve mentioned before I can’t walk or run, would it shock you if I told you I can’t jump either?  

Standing there on my booth seat I watched as this waitress tossed this girl around like a rag doll, under our table, over it- I couldn’t believe it. I looked at my cousin who was just as stunned as I was.

I remember yelling, “We need to leave.”

Like she could do something about it.

We were both stuck there as everyone watched these girls rip each other a part. Then out of the kitchen door tore this mass of testosterone (about 5-8 male kitchen staff) they flooded over the two women in order to pull them apart.

They were screaming, “Just stop.”

 I remember thinking, that’s cute.

Of course, the women didn’t listen and continued on. The show wasn’t over though, before these guys could get them apart another herd of men (who didn’t work there), crashed through the front door. They also had about five to eight guys in their group. Sorry I didn’t get a total count during all the commotion. These guys jumped the kitchen staff and an all out brawl ensued.

I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.  Dishes and trays are falling, people are getting up and moving (not me though, cause I’m stuck!)

I was in the middle of yelling, “This is ridiculous,” while simultaneously doubting my life’s decisions up until that point, when another herd of kitchen staff ran out to help the others.

One of the men that had burst through the front door yelled, “Get off her, she didn’t start it.”

So apparently these guys from outside knew one of the women and thought the whole kitchen staff had jumped her? I have no clue. I still to this day don’t know what the fight was about.

Someone somewhere had called the cops and I noticed them walk in the door. And just like that, it was over. Everyone shot in different directions and the fighting was done.

Likewise, I shot off my booth and headed for the door.  No way was I staying there another minute. There was nothing that would stop me from leaving-or so I thought-until I caught a glimpse of who was standing in the doorway. The waitress stood there holding the door open for people to walk through. I was so stunned, I accidentally made eye contact again.

Recognizing me she said, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Now don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the apology. Even more, I appreciate the fact that she didn’t involve me anymore than I had been.

I managed a nervous little laugh in response as I slid out the door away from her. I simply wanted to gain access to the car- where I felt safe; which I did.
​
And do you know what else I gained access to from that experience? Food poisoning-I guess they were too busy with other things to cook the food properly. 

I was counting out pills for a customer that would soon arrive, when this man casually strolled in. I had never seen him before, he was somewhere in his sixties or seventies. He had a long white beard that rested on his button up shirt. I remember glancing up at him when he came in the door. The pharmacist met him at the register, where from out of his wallet he produced a paper prescription.

“I’d like to get this filled.” He said.

The pharmacist took the prescription behind the counter and started entering it into the computer. I had just finished counting the pills for my patient’s prescription, when I noticed the pharmacist stop typing. I glanced over at him to see him really looking this prescription over.

I figured the doctor had forgotten to sign it or something by the way he was looking at it. The pharmacist left the computer and walked back up to the register.

“Sir, this is a C2 prescription. I need to see your ID to fill it.”

On a side note, encase you don’t know, a C2 is a Controlled Substance.

The man shook his head like he understood and produced his wallet again, he pulled his ID out and then handed it over.

The pharmacist ran back up to the computer and began typing again. I was pulling up another prescription to fill when the pharmacist stopped for a second time. I looked over to find a puzzled look plastered on his face.

‘What now?’ I thought.

The pharmacist walked back down to the register, still looking at the ID.

“Sir is this prescription for you?”

“Yes.” The man didn’t seem a bit concerned.

I leaned on the counter and watched on, at this point I knew something was about to happen.

“This is your ID?” The pharmacist asked holding it up.

“Yes.” Still no concern.

“Do you go by another name?”

“No, why?” Now the guy seemed perturbed.

“Well, the name on this ID is different from name on the prescription.”

“Well I know that!” The man spit exasperated, “It’s a fake prescription!”

I heard it-watched it-still couldn’t believe it.

The pharmacist was taken aback and didn’t speak for a moment. Finally all that came out was, “Sir I can’t fill this.”

The man then proceeded to throw both of his arms over his head in utter disgust. He turned around with a loud huff and walked right out, leaving the pharmacist standing there with the prescription and ID in hand. The pharmacist turned and looked at me, still dumbfounded.

I was still resting my chin on my hand when I asked, “You want to call the cops or me?”

And people wonder why I am the way I am… 

When I was little I saw a commercial for a baby doll that laughed and moved around in her remote control walker. I wanted it. So I asked and asked and finally I got it for my birthday. I played with this thing so much it was ridiculous. There was an on and off switch on both the walker and the remote and if you didn’t turn them both off the batteries would die.

Around that time I watched a few movies where dolls came to life and killed people. It didn’t affect me but so much, there were a few dolls I gave away after that. I only gave the ones away that looked like they had a potential of coming to life.
Some dolls just had that ‘look’, you know what I mean? But not my baby doll in her walker- she didn’t even come out of the walker. What could she do?

Excuse me while I clear my throat.

I had just played with her earlier that day in fact. I had turned her off and left her in the corner behind me so I could sit at the kitchen table to color. My baby doll would wait for me, like she always did, until it was time for us to play together again. It was that simple.

So here I was in my little chair, with my little crayons and color book. Coloring was soothing or at least I thought so. It was dark outside; in fact it was almost bedtime. A storm had come up, bringing lightning and thunder with it. The rain knocked against the window gently as the storm passed. It didn’t bother me though because I was coloring, I was focused and relaxed.

I was doing a bang up job on keeping it inside the lines, when this demon-spawned from the pits of Hell itself, shot across my kitchen; kicking her legs, waving her arms, laughing, and screaming mama! She was halfway across the kitchen before I realized what was happening. She moved so fast that she bounced off the opposite wall and spun around- heading for me. Ladies and gentlemen, I levitated off of that seat.

I was still in the air by the third time I screamed MAMA! My parents were still sitting on the couch when I sprung from the table into their laps. They hadn’t had time to move. When they asked me what was wrong I was still screaming when I said “She’s alive!”

Of course no one was in a hurry to get into the kitchen, my dad was laughing as he stood up. FYI this is serious! I had strategically placed myself behind them when we reached the kitchen. She had of course stopped by then, she sat there in the middle of the kitchen looking at me like, “Ha ha- they’ll never believe you. You’re mine!”

They half way believed me when I said she shot across the kitchen, I think they were giving me the benefit of the doubt anyway. My mom crouched down beside it and poked at it, all the while I’m thinking ‘that’s probably not a good idea’.
Suddenly, she shot away from my mom in the opposite direction. I felt all the blood drain from my body down into my toes. They almost lost me. My mom laughed and followed her, she picked her up- walker and all to examine her.

“Are you sure you turned her off?”

WHAT kind of a stupid question is that? Of course I turned her off; throw her outside before she gets us all!

“Here’s your problem, you didn’t turn her stroller off.”

My mom flicked the stroller switch off and sat her back down. She picked up her remote and looked at it.

“You did turn her remote off though.”

My dad left the room laughing.

“What does that matter? She was off! I didn’t hit any buttons.” I exclaimed.

“Well, maybe her wires got crossed or something. She’s off now. Let’s go to bed.”

The only thing that crossed her wires was a demon, I thought to myself.

You want to know who didn’t sleep that night? Me. I waited there in my room for her to come for me, every creak, every sound was her creeping up to my bedroom door.

Spoiler alert, she didn’t get me.

And I got the last laugh, when my mom came around with the bag to put old toys in to donate- guess who went in it?

Wires my back side— Demon spawn! 

When I was little I remember our Preacher reading Matthew 24:31, the verse in the Bible about God coming back to take his children home. I listened to it, took it to heart, and moved on. It seemed pretty important, so I kept that verse in the back of my mind.

Fast forward a little ways, I’m still a child sitting in church beside my mom.

My favorite part about coming to church was listening to the choir. I thought the sound was wonderful, the songs were great, and I loved just sitting there reading the lyrics.

It was a typical Sunday morning. We had our regular members mixed with a few guests and everyone now stood while the choir began to sing their songs. In our church we had a piano, two guitars, and the occasional tambourine. Like my grandmother use to say, ‘Back in my day’ we didn’t have CD’s or tape players in church. Members played instruments and that was it. (Oh and no cell phones either. Does that date me?)

So there I was, standing there reading the lyrics of the song. I don’t particularly remember the song they were singing- but I remember holding the hymnal and reading along. And then I heard it, out of nowhere this trumpet sounded. Instantly, that verse popped into my head. My heart jumped into my throat! I almost dropped the hymnal as I jerked my head straight up. I stood there staring at the ceiling- waiting.

The thing is, yes I heard the verse where he comes back with the sound of trumpet and gets his children. HOW he did it and what happened after that was beyond me. I was a child-so I was half listening. That being said, at that moment I was wishing I had paid more attention. I wasn’t sure what happened next. I guess I was looking up preparing myself for God to rip the roof right off the church and grab me up?

I inched closer to my mother, which even then I thought, ‘She can’t do anything.’

After a minute of staring straight up, I looked around confused. He hadn’t come through the roof, so was He coming in the door? Where were all the angels He was supposed to have with him? I honestly thought it would be bigger than that, a big explosion or lightning and thunder- something. (I remembered something about a shout in the Bible.) At one point I thought, is He waiting outside for me in the parking lot? Did I miss it? It’s supposed to be in the blink of an eye but if I heard it, shouldn’t I have seen it?

It was then I noticed, no one else was looking up or around. They didn’t even seem to hear it. Everyone kept singing along like nothing was happening. Was I the only one hearing it? Because at this point the trumpet is still going, it hadn’t stopped this whole time.

I glanced back at the door one more time to make sure He wasn’t standing there and then scanned the crowd again. Every person I looked at seemed so relaxed. None of their facial expressions matched my heart beat. They couldn’t possibly be hearing what I’m hearing. Some are singing, some are digging through their purses for a cough drop. I glanced back to the back row where normally all the guests sat (why I don’t know) and it was then I saw him. One of our guests, whom I had notice walk in earlier with a weird looking suit case; stood there on the back row playing a trumpet.

As I listened to it closer, the man was playing along with the tune of the hymn.

I plopped down in my seat and sat there for a minute, exhausted.

My mom looked down at me with a ‘are you alright?’ stare.

“Yeah mom, I’m great. Just went through the most terrifying 2 minutes of my life but it’s all good now..”

One night after work I stopped by a drive thru on the way home. It was late, I didn’t feel like cooking, and I was kind of being lazy. Moving right along, I ordered our food and decided to get six biscuits to go along with everything because-who doesn’t like biscuits? Unfortunately I was about to find out. At the  window I paid the kid (he’s not really a kid but he was younger than me, so that’s what I call him) and he handed me my drinks and then turned to his work buddy. We’re going to call him Bob.

The kid turns to Bob and says, “Hey Bob I need those six biscuits.”

Bob mumbled something but neither I nor the kid heard what he said. The kid walks away to get the rest of my order. When he returns to the window, Bob apparently hadn’t gotten the biscuits to the window yet. Now mind you, I’m in no particular hurry, this isn’t a big deal.

The kid turns back to Bob and says, “Hey did you hear me about those biscuits?”

Well friends, Bob lost it. He apparently wasn’t having the best day. I’m not sure what happened to Bob- it was anybody’s guess; but what it dwindled down to was-Bob could take no more.

Bob slammed his hand down on the metal shelf in front of him and SCREAMED, “You’re not listening to what I’m telling you! I don’t have six biscuits! I have two, TWO-TWO BISCUITS!”

I was somewhere between shock and disbelief about Bob and these biscuits when the kid turned back to me. Honestly, the kid was in more shock than I was and I could tell he didn’t know what to do.

He said, “Did you hear that?” Pointing to Bob.

“The whole drive-thru heard that.” I told him.

Bob then proceeds to slam other things down on the counter as he ranted to himself about the rights and wrongs of the world. The kid looked back at Bob and then leaned out the window, he seemed embarrassed and also a little frightened of Bob.

“What can I do to make it up to you?” He asked- it was apparent he wasn’t going to ask Bob about more biscuits. I don’t blame him, I wouldn’t either. I also think he was praying I didn’t push the subject.

So here we are, I had already paid, Bob couldn’t fit the bill for the biscuits, and this kid didn’t know where to turn. I’d like to point out here that this still wasn’t a big deal to me, I don’t need the biscuits. Refund me, give me something else- I don’t care. If you don’t have biscuits, you don’t have them I guess. But for Bob, this was a catastrophe. The fact that I had ordered six biscuits when he only had two was simply unacceptable. I think a few things might have lead up to this but of course his whole world had to crumble around my biscuits. Bob had now walked away from the counter but I could still hear him screaming something in the background.

I leaned out my car window and as softly as I could, I said, “Slip me some mac-n-cheese and don’t mention biscuits for the rest of the night.”

The kid darted towards the back (Bob’s still screaming) and then produced a bowl of mac-n-cheese. I thanked the kid as he handed the bag over and he quickly shut the drive-thru window; I’m assuming to run out the front door. I glanced in the bag out of habit to make sure everything was there and realized the TWO BISCUITS never made it to the bag. You know what I did?

I drove off, because friends, I didn’t have the heart to ask Bob about the two biscuits.

Years ago, before I was a trained-certified pharmacy technician, I worked at a small local pharmacy. I started where everyone did, the cash register. I had many responsibilities, one of which was taking out the trash.

That day, when I strolled to the dumpster I noticed the pharmacist’s husband pull up. He and I had become friends and we had a weird cat-mouse game. No, not a risqué-world-wind-whatever you’re thinking right now. It was a brother-sister, I’m going to beat the crap out you and make you cry, deal. Now that that is clarified, stay with me people.

​When he stepped out of his car, we made eye contact and in that second I thought "I need to run from him." In that same second he thought, "I need to chase her." And we were off.

Not that I can run, for goodness sake I can barely walk. He is a tall man, whereas I am one of those people you want to pat on the head because I'm short. Don't. I'll bite you. The point is-he was on me before I could move.

By the time I reached the door, I was feeling pretty proud of myself for not dying somewhere in that sudden sprint. If you ever see me walk, you’ll understand. I jerked the door open and simultaneously looked behind me, just to judge how close he was. 

I don’t know about you but I have already made peace with the fact that, if someday, someone does come after me. I’m gone. There’s no need to fight it-I can’t run even if I wanted to. To then add the stress of knowing something or someone is gaining on me. Nope. I can’t do it. Let’s just hope it’s quick. I’m assuming that’s why God didn’t make me a prey animal.

So here I am in the entry way of the door I had just slung open, I have now realized he is literally breathing down my neck. I’m not joking. I can feel it. If he wanted to end it right then, consider it done. So naturally, I let out an earth shattering scream. What else is there to do?

I'm not real sure what happened after that, maybe the excitement was just too much that my legs gave out? Or maybe I tripped. There’s really no telling. I went crashing (and I’m not meaning that lightly, I HURLED myself through this door) into the pharmacy, taking out a 50 gallon garbage can FULL of food for the homeless, somehow spun, and landed in (not by, not past, not even against- IN) the middle of our metal vitamin shelves. Oh but I didn’t stop there, I had gained so much momentum that I bounced off the shelves and came to rest in the middle of the floor (where there is to this day, a skid mark on the carpet where I came in for a landing).

Apparently when I crashed into the shelves, I dented 3 of the 5 shelves in flight. I had hit one of them so hard, it sliced my arm open and I was now bleeding on the carpet; profusely. 

I managed to look up to the front of the pharmacy where everyone stood in awe of what had just happened. Remember, no one even knew the pharmacist’s husband was there. They hadn’t witnessed what had happened outside. I don’t think I can adequately explain the terror and confusion on their faces; their eyes were so huge I thought they’d pop right out of their heads. I’m going to be honest right here, I giggled. 

I noticed the pharmacist’s husband was still outside, holding the door open. He was so stunned (which is hard to do because he worked in EMS and had seen a lot) he couldn't speak. He just reached behind his back and grabbed his radio on his belt to call for an ambulance, if needed. That also made me giggle. I'm assuming they all thought I knocked myself silly but at this point I was so embarrassed, it was either laugh at myself or cry. I chose to laugh. 

When everyone caught sight of him in the doorway, it eased the tension of the situation. They began to laugh at me, I say at because I know better than to say with at this point. I assume they were all relieved I wasn’t being murdered or robbed. His wife however, immediately started sobbing uncontrollably. She told me later that she had thought he had killed me. I reassured her that he never even touched me, it was all self-inflicted.

My boss at the time appeared over me in disbelief and asked if I was okay. 

It was then I noticed there was still a customer in the store. Great. The elderly gentleman made his way to me slowly (yes, I'm still lying in the floor) and peered over me. I got a simple, "That looked like it hurt," before he turned and walked right out!

In all honesty, I think it would have hurt less to have just let him punch me in the gut or something. Deciding to run was a regrettable decision on my part.

Best-day-at-work-ever.

P.S.
I have scar on my arm to remember the occasion- you know, to go along with the trauma.