I pulled the package out of my saddle bag and walked into the post office. Helmet under my arm, black leather jacket still zipped tight. Three people in line, hmmm…not to bad, I would be out of here in 10 minutes. The lady in front of me turned and eyed me up and down with squinted eyes. The eyes hesitated just slightly at my helmet and leather jacket. “Why do you keep following me?” she said loudly. “ Were you watching me at me at my house?”
“Ma’am I am just here mailing a package I don’t know you.” I took a step back giving the lady more personal space.
“Are you with the CIA? Have you bugged my phones? Why are you people following me?” Her cadence had lifted and now the teller was eyeing her and me. I backed up one more step the person behind making room.
“Lady, I have never seen you before. I am here just like you trying to mail a package.”
“Well, you are not going to keep me from mailing my package!”
As softly as my voice could muster, “No, ma’am, I would not want to do that, why do you think someone is following you?”
“See, there you go trying to get information out of me, just leave me alone!”
“Sure thing ma’am the teller is ready to help you,” point past her.
Carefully, she moved forward and I could hear her whispering to the teller I was following her.
Her business done, she left and soon my business was completed. Riding a motorcycle takes a bit of doing to get everything situated, there is the helmet, the gloves; any parcels must be stowed in the saddle bags. While my getting ready to take off all at once the crazy lady was there, right up close. Now her words to me were irrational and made no sense. I knew they were meant to be accusatory. I listened just like I was listening to any other crazy person, with my bike as a protective barrier between us. Finally I guess she said everything she needed to say. It might of helped that the lady behind me in the post office came and helped rescue me. Being kind of creeped out, I headed home somewhat distracted.
I was tempted to follow crazy lady just to give her a little reality but then I realized that would just be cruel and might end in jail time. I have thought about crazy lady now and then and wondered how she is doing.
Sorry, for no point to this story, it just happened, a strange interlude breaking up the mundane. It did make me feel very powerful that someone might think me a CIA agent. That night I had dreams of fast cars, hot women, and 007 stamped on my gun. Of course I woke up eventually – D’OH!