Stop Staring Contest

At the airport a middle aged French man sat two rows ahead of me on the bus running between terminals. He wore brown leather lace up shoes and black pants cuffed pants. On his right shoe a paper luggage name label was nicely attached to his laces. Perhaps in case he lost a shoe under his seat?

Waiting in an airport line behind an older couple with practical American clothing and practical short hair I couldn't help but notice the excessive luggage. The husband's matched bags were snapped together in three descending layers from his larger wheeled jungle pattern suitcase. As the couple approached check-in the wife unzipped from the smallest outside luggage pocket neatly coiled green polyester straps with silver fasteners. They unfurl each belt and then put the Kelly green belts methodically around each of the already unmistakable suitcases so that now they will be easily seen on future luggage carousel?

In Battery Park three men in matching dark blue pinstripe suits sit on the bench across from mine. The first takes out his sunglasses from his breast pocket and the two others follow. All the sunglasses match. Another takes out his blackberry and begins to type a message and the two others remove their blackberries and begin to text as well. The make occasional eye contact, but it is brief and spy like. Synchronized, they all stand up and leave five minutes later.

Last night I was eating sushi in the East Village when a fifty something man dressed in a suit and tie carrying a black leather brief case sat down and ordered six Sapporo beers. He opened one and drank it. A woman also in her fifties then came in and sat with him. She was dressed in a loose dark-turquoise pantsuit. She refused a Sapporo and ordered green tea. They chatted and were very much engaged by each other, so much so I don't think they noticed me staring. As I finished my ice cream five young Japanese women, none older than twenty-four or five came into the restaurant and sat down with the man and woman. They were dressed for a night of clubbing in tight red and black dresses, their hair ironed, their makeup fresh. The Sapporos were passed around. Conversation continued jovially and everyone appeared quite at ease with each other. The girls seemed comfortably intimate with the older couple and laughed and told stories at length.

My neighbor takes three chairs and a fan out of his apartment and leaves them on the landing. He puts a sign on them that says These Are Not Free. When I pass him in the hall I ask if they are for sale. "No," he says, "Why would they be?" "Well if they're not for free...?" I begin to reason. "They're not for anybody, not for you, not for sale!" He has been unlocking his door while we converse and punctuates the now awkward silence by opening the door slowly, allowing it to screech while we stand too close and without conversation in the hall.

So many inexplicable events have led me to two conclusions. The first is that assumptions, that if something is not free it is for sale, that baggage tags are for luggage, and that women twenty-five years younger than the men they dine with are either daughters or prostitutes, have gotten me nowhere. The second is that I should stop staring at people because they are probably creeped out.

I've decided to turn this blog post into a contest of sorts. If you have an explanation for any of the above events, or if you are in fact one of the subjects of my confusion, or if you wish to report another odd event send an email to funnyandinteresting@gmail.com. The winners for the best submissions will be posted on the blog and will receive my hearty email congratulations; e-cards may or may not be involved.