I had a weird experience yesterday. I had to go to my friend's place in
Sunnyvale and Dave August dropped me at my friend's apartment complex.
(How we spent a long time going up and down the Mary Ave. searching
for the cross street, and how I depleted his cell phone's batteries is a
different story). Anyway I hadn't heared my friend's apartment number
properly when he told me over phone. I thought it was 103 and knocked at
that door. A old lady opened it. I knew my friend doesn't live with any
old ladies, so I said sorry. She asked me which one I was looking for. I said
maybe it was 133. She said its on the other side, so I thanked her and
started walking to the other side. She started following me, pointing to each
apartment and saying, "No this is not the one, not this one.." and so on.
I was thinking, maybe she is over zealous in trying to help. Now,
thats an Indian neighbourhood, and some Indians were walking on the street.
She started pointing me to each of them and started asking whether they
knew me. Man, I was embarrassed and just wanted to disappear from there.
Anyway, I couldn't find 133, and the old lady was still prancing around
trying to find it. I had my friends phone number, but I didn't have a
cell phone myself. I had no other choice but to ask the old lady whether
I could use her phone. She accepted gladly (bless her soul). Now, when
I entered her apartment, it was totally dark. Weird part is, glowing
eyes started popping up here and there, just like in those cartoons. There
were so many cats in her apartment, I counted at least 8. Then the
reek of cat poop hit me. It was so strong and pervasive inside the closed
space that I felt I was going to throw up or faint or both. Anyway, I made
the call quickly, and found out my friend's apartment number was actually
1003. I nearly ran out the old lady's apartment, barely thanking her.
Yeah, she was really helpful and all, but the whole thing was really weird.