Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Mental DVR

Do you ever wish that you had a TiVo, implanted in your brain? That you could push a button inside your ear that would start recording everything you’re seeing and hearing? That you could pause special moments and just drink them in? That you could rewind, and relive the hilarious minutes of everyday? Ok, ok. I know this sounds exactly like the movie Click, but I’m not talking about fast-forwarding through the dull parts of life. I’m talking about relishing all the awesome moments we get to experience everyday. I wish I could replay the story about I’m about to tell you. I have a feeling it would be a new YouTube sensation.

As I paced back from the men’s bathroom, on the third floor of my office building, I turned the corner and began the final stretch of my walk back to my desk. About 15 yards away, there was an average looking lady, with scraggly blonde hair walking toward me. The 15 yard gap is an awkward distance to deal with, especially when we were the only two walking down the center aisle of our office. Do I acknowledge her? Do I smile? Do I say “good morning?” Do I put my head down and ignore her existence? All of these thoughts trampled throughout my mind in a matter of a second, which eventually led to my split-second decision to do whatever was natural. (whatever the heck that means).

As the gap between us shortened, we made eye contact and a gentle smile brushed across her face. I remained stoic and continued my final few paces before I reached her, not completely ignoring her, but not letting my green eyes tear her heart from within her.

The gap was 5 feet now. I looked at her. She looked at me. She stopped dead in her tracks, not because she was awe-struck by me, but because she ran directly into the side of her cubicle, making a loud thud echo across the office. Completely embarrassed, the average girl looked at me. I tried to pretend I hadn’t just seen her walk directly into the side of a stationary, inanimate object, but she knew that I had indeed witnessed her embarrassing mishap. Without a moment’s hesitation, she opened her mouth and nervously spoke these words to me: “I don’t have any depth perception.”
Was she serious? Did she really have some sort of depth perception disability that hindered her from walking like a normal human being? Or, was my breath taking presence so debilitating to her that she lost all primal motor functions and reverted back to early childhood when she didn’t know how to walk? I didn’t have much time to react. In an effort to save some her some ounce of dignity, I stifled back the eruption of laughter that was about to burst out of me and restrained to letting out a calm chuckle.

The average looking girl, with straggly blonde hair doesn’t look at me anymore. Or maybe she is looking at me, but she has crossed eyes, which caused her to run into the side of a cubicle. I guess I’ll never know.

No comments: