Pat Moment

I had a Pat moment tonight.

My best friend Pat is a teacher. Although it doesn't happen as often these days, we used to run into his students and former students all the time. (This could be because we don't hang out or go out to local places as much as we used to.) It got to be a running joke over the years.

Tonight I drove through Jack In The Box. After ordering I pulled up to the window and handed my money to the kid. When he handed back my change, he asked "Do you live on 41st street?" I said that I did. "I recognized your car, " he said.

I have to confess, a that moment I was a bit nervous. I don't live in the best neighborhood— as evidenced by my taser post from last week. So, I don't know how comfortable I am being recognized as I drive around. On the other hand, I have the only car in San Bernardino with big frogs on the side doors. For anyone who doesn't already know, I used to run a computer business on the side name RisingFrog Technologies. (No, I never made any real money with it.)

After a second, the kid went on. "I live by Seventh Heaven." Seventh Heaven is a little windowless market two blocks down the street. It's bigger than a quick stop mart, but nowhere near the size of a real grocery store. Despite having lived in this neighborhood for 20+ years, I've only been in there two or three times— and not at all in the last five years. It is terribly convenient... but there's always a pretty rough crowd hanging around outside, and I believe someone was shot there a few years ago. Like I said, there are no windows, and there are bars at the cashier. It's not a relaxing place to shop— not even for a few minutes.

Then the kid added, "I used to go to school at Shandin Hills," which is the local middle school about ten to fifteen walking minutes away. It turns out he used to walk past my place every day and knew my car well. I'll just have to believe for now that he isnt the kid who scratched a big line the entire length of my car. Or the kid who scratched an anarchy 'A' in my paint.

He said his family used to have chickens, and I was immediately reminded of some neighbors just one block over who used to have chickens that wandered into the street all the time. When I mentioned those chickens, he said that his family sold the origianl chickens to that family. Small world!

All in all, it was a weird midnight encounter, but not an unpleasant one.

Oh, and Jack's new Chicken Biscuit sandwich is really dry. It needs something.

Until next time.

"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle."— Plato