Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, February 22, 1993 TAG: 9302220243
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A-9 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: MONTY S. LEITCH
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
RUN FOR THE TOY STORE
A COUPLE of months ago, while browsing through a book store, trying to be inconspicuous even though I'd pulled out that ladder customers aren't supposed to use and had scooted it all the way across the store's back wall, and was teetering on its nearly-top rung, I heard from across the room, "Monty? Is that you?"I turned, balanced, teetered, squinted.
"It is you!" this individual shouted. "Fancy meeting you here!"
Recognized from the rear (a precarious preposition at best, especially in public) and from a looking-up/looking-down position, what else could I do? "Why hello!" I shouted back, across the store, beginning my descent. "How in the world are you?"
When, of course, what I really wanted to say was, " Who in the world are you?" And, "How did you know me from there?"
Oh, that face was familiar. Something about that voice. But where? When? Oh my heavens, who?
Well, you know the feeling. You've found yourself in the very same position. And, if you're a good Southern girl, you do the same thing I did. You talk and keep on talking. Talk! Talk! Talk! Never let your ignorance show.
"What have you been up to?"
"How's life treating you?"
"This is my husband, I'm sure you remember him!"
"Still writing, I suppose?"
Now, the most embarrassing part of this story is the answer to that question: "Why, yes," this friendly fellow answered. "In fact, I'm here today signing my latest book."
Latest book?
Look at the name on the jacket, Monty. Think, Monty, think!
Finally - finally! - I remembered the man and how he knew my name. Nearly 20 years ago we'd worked in the very same newsroom. Fancy meeting him there!
Of course, the other side of this terrible coin is no better. You're roaming around a mall, on a not-very-busy day, when up ahead you see a woman who makes you think, "Hmmm. That looks a lot like . . . "
Insert here the name of someone you went to high school with. Someone pretty tiresome.
Two more steps and, "Holy mackeral, it is her." And she's just about to turn in your direction.
What do you do?
Well, what I do is suddenly get terribly interested in the mechanical pigs dancing in front of the toy store. Suddenly decide I have to go into the toy store and check out, in minute detail, every available figure in the Teen-Age Mutant Ninja Turtle series.
Or look away. Turn away. Look blase. Look completely blank and hope, if she manages somehow to see you anyway, that she thinks you've not seen her. Avoid eye contact. Refuse recognition. Tell yourself, "It's been so long, she couldn't recognize me."
Ha!
She recognizes you and she sees what you're doing. You don't fool her for a second. But does it ever occur to you that the woman you don't want to see, doesn't want to see you, either?
Of course not! What an idea! Who would ever think that about herself? Certainly not moi!
Why, of course, she wanted to see me! After all, I'm not a tiresome person. The very idea!
But if you steal a glance behind you, you'll see that now she's studying the mechanical pigs, too.
So that's when you shout, "Why Henrietta! Is that really you?"
Gottcha.
Monty S. Leitch is a Roanoke Times & World-News columnist.