Sometimes inspiration to write hits you in the face.

Today, something very, very odd happened to me. Something that has never happened before.

I was at a meeting in an office downtown. It was inside a building, and the room I was in had no windows.

When I finished up (it was past 7PM), I made my way downstairs and was confronted by an unexpected hailstorm. It was so unexpected that my phone refused to backup what my eyes were showing me. The Weather Channel boldly stated “sunny skies”. Unfortunately, the large hail crashing against the outside windows refused to believe it.

As I stood there, wondering what my next move should be, I noticed a man on a bicycle standing outside, under the shade of the building, trying to protect himself from the icy pebbles that were falling around him. He could not come inside, since it was after-hours, and the doors only opened from within.

As I stood there still thinking to myself “Go! Let him in!”, a lady emerged from another office. She was an older woman, impeccably dressed.  In a precise, European accent she said, “I want to let him in, but we are not allowed to open the doors to anyone after-hours”.

What does one do now? She didn’t want to be held liable by the building management, but this guy was standing outside, getting pounded.

The rain started getting even louder, the hail even more intense.

At last, we looked at each other, and decided to open the door. Obviously…right?

So, in walks this man. About 50 or so. Wearing brown shorts, and a brown zipped up vest, with no shirt on.

He thanks us, and then unzips his vest. “It sure is wet out there. Thanks for letting me in. Appreciate it.”

The older lady talked to him a bit, while I stood a little to the side, my phone out. I’m sorry – my biases kicked in. Yes, I admit it. I felt uncomfortable around someone who looked shabby, and gave off that “homeless” vibe. Sue me.

I had tuned out what they were talking about, when my ears picked up “It’s wet. Love it when those girls wear white t-shirts.” Huh?

The … gentleman started making references to girls in white t-shirts getting wet in the rain. The poor European lady, whose first language was obviously not English, kept asking him to explain what he meant.

I had enough. “Stop.”

“What?” he said.

“Stop speaking please. Actually, the rain has let off, please go.”

“What?!?!” he screamed.

“Please go now.”

He lost it. “You bitch! You are fat and ugly! You cunt! How dare you?!” (I am sure he said more, but I wasn’t recording at the time.)

I stood there calmly (I was very proud of myself, yes, I was), and pretended to ignore him, not pay him too much attention, and said, as though to a bug, “Please, just go.”

He opened the door, and stepped out into the rain (any sympathy I had was gone by this point.) “You mean bitch! I wouldn’t want to be your father!”

Luckily, the door auto-locked once closed.

The lady and I stood looking at each other. “What was he saying?” she asked. “I couldn’t understand what he meant. What girls in white t-shirts?”

I explained to her. The poor woman went red. “Oh! I didn’t realize. Oh dear!”

We stood there for a while chatting. The rain started to ease off, and I began thinking of making a run for it to my car. I was about to open the door, when the same man suddenly appeared at the window again, this time with a jacket with the CTV (our local news channel) logo on it. “You cunt! This is who I am! #$%^&” (That isn’t a censor, I just have no idea what else he said 🙂 ) He stood there, rambling on for 15 or 20 seconds.

The lady took me by the arm, “You come with me. My husband is taking a class in our office. Do not go out till it is safe.”

We sat there, outside her office, making smalltalk. (Her husband is a Pilates instructor, and was teaching Pilates teachers at that time. Interesting!)  Soon the rain stopped enough that we saw other people come out back onto the streets.

I thanked her profusely. She offered to show me the back way out, we exchanged our favourite techniques to disable a man (I had my keys out, she told me she always carries an umbrella.)

I opened the door, looked both ways, and ran through the leftover drizzle to my car.

I am now sitting in the library, typing this out.

Thank you random weird guy for giving me the inspiration to write again!