Last night after a tough day of work at Real Job Inc., some of my coworkers and I decided to invest in some wings at the local Buffalo Wild Wings. We sat around and cracked jokes about our jobs (meteorology humor is awesome. I wish I had time to share some), had a couple beers and took off. When I arrived home, I had the second most bizarre encounter with a fellow tenant of my apartment complex (the first was last center when I arrived home, and a creep waiting by the door asked if I was a detective or something. After I told him I wasn’t he insisted to his friends that I was).
I have a garage for the winter, so I pulled in the garage (my spot is right next the garbage shaft, which is awesome) and got out of the car. There is a keyed door to get into the area with the elevator, and I was just about to unlock the door, when I heard someone coming out. I stopped and let them open the door so I wouldn’t have to. I grabbed the knob and pulled the door all the way open so A) it would stay open and I could get in and B) I’m frickin chivalrous.
Anyways, this girl steps through the door and I say hi, because again, I’m polite and chivalrous. She takes one look at me and gives me the universal “as if” look and goes “psh.”
The hell?
I mean, she was wearing her bad ass snowboarding jacket (I’m sure she had an oversized belt with giant holes in it too. I didn’t see), and I was still dressed up in a collared shirt and khakis, so maybe she was just showing how awesomely independent she was and what a square I am. I’m not sure I understand it at all. But there’s a lot in life that we don’t understand. Like, for example, Don King in a Florida Panthers jersey.
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