Yesterday's true story:
I had one of the most awkward shopping experiences of my life yesterday.
My buddy Albert and I went to a comic book store and we were the only two customers. That's usually no big deal. Comic books aren't really a booming business, I guess, so there have been plenty of times when I've been the only customer in the store. That doesn't usually make me too uncomfortable.
(Well, there was this one time when I went to this one store near my house, and that place was pretty much the epitome of the stereotypical comic book dungeon: just rows and rows and stacks and stacks of white long boxes filled with dusty back issues. The owner wasn't a creep or anything, but the layout of the store was so unwashed that there was just an oppressive atmosphere navigating and browsing. Also, it was so ridiculously quiet that I couldn't help but imagine the owner was gonna jump out from behind the counter and stab me for accidentally getting a fingerprint on the polyethylene sleeve of a copy of Legion of Superheroes volume 2, #13. Or something.)
Albert and I entered the store right when the owner was at the tail end of a phone conversation. From the sounds of it, it seemed like he had just experienced some sort of intense emotional thing. After he hung up, he greeted us and politely welcomed us to his establishment. We did some browsing. (Sadly, the four dollar trade paperback bin had not been replenished since the last time we went to the store a few months back.) I've pretty much stopped the habit of buying monthly comics. (The only series I still buy in serial format is Peter Milligan's Greek Street, a dark and twisted imagining of ancient Greek tragedies played out in modern day London. I'd missed the past two issues so I knew I had to pick them up.)
Anyway, I soon grabbed the two comic books I planned to purchase. Albert and I continued to browse. I imagine that the two of us shopping for comics is much similar to how women go clothes shopping together. We looked at many objects that we wished we could take home with us. I guess the main difference between shopping for comic books and clothes is that comic book stores don't have dressing rooms so you can't really try anything on in private.
After a few minutes had passed, the owner had another phone call. It was the same person he had been talking to earlier. Granted, I only heard one side of the conversation, but the guy was seriously getting emotional. He was getting more and more heated and it was obvious that he was talking to his ex. As the conversation went on, it became easier and easier to piece together the messy and rather private details of their relationship. The owner seemed completely oblivious to our presence, and his voice was very emotional and he got more and more upset as he recounted how he had been wronged by her and he demanded whether or not he needed to "wrangle up a posse" to collect his belongings from their place of dwelling. It sounded painful.
I really didn't know what to do. It was a bizarre experience. I was still holding the two comics I wanted to buy. A part of me wanted to just put them back on the shelf and leave as quickly as possible, and give the man some privacy. Then a part of me thought that if we left the store, the guy would just get even more incensed - like, he couldn't make things work with his woman and now he couldn't even run his store properly and sell comics. I had a vision in my mind about leaving the store without buying anything and then the guy hanging up the phone and then hanging himself.
Instead, I tried my damndest to pretend to be really intrigued in crappy comic books (Brightest Day #3?) so that Albert and I could talk to each other and try not to eavesdrop on the dude's conversation. (Even though he was talking hella loud.) We just spent the next few minutes trying to talk to each other about all these random comics on the shelf just to relieve some of the tension. Also, I felt that the only way we could give the guy some "privacy" was to distract ourselves with our own conversation. Fortunately the two of us have exceptionally scintillating wits. (Lol, I was tempted to type "titillating.") (One day, I will use "titillating" in a legitimate sentence. One day. On the other hand, maybe I DO have a titillating wit.) (But that doesn't count.)
Eventually, the owner hung up the phone. Actually, that is an understatement because I think he slammed it off the hook, but I pretended not to notice. I also pretended not to notice that annoying buzzing sound that phones make when you leave them off the hook for too long. Albert and I continued to examine the wares in the store, but I definitely wanted to give the guy some space before I tried to get him to ring me up at the register.
When he saw us checking out the new hardcover of Wednesday Comics, he made some more polite comments and extolled the virtues of the book. He did an admirable job burying his emotions. I guess that's how I knew it was safe to approach him at that point, so I finally made my purchases and then we got the heck outta there.
As I reflect on what happened, it strikes me that the guy's conversation with his ex was so important to him that he didn't really give a flying diddlypoo about being overheard by strangers. That amazes me. It really does.
Growing up as an only kid, I was pretty much my own best friend. Other people would sometimes wonder if I felt lonely and crap as a kid, but I don't think so. I always had myself to talk to and, as I said, I have a titillating wit. (Yup, even as a little kid.) As a consequence, however, I'm far more self-conscious than just about anyone I've ever met.
I have no good understanding of how a person could just not give a flamin' you-know-what about how others would perceive his actions. I don't know what it would take for me to expose myself emotionally in the presence of innocent bystanders like the store owner dude did. All I know is how it looked from my point of view.
To lose yourself in a moment, to just pour so much of yourself into something that the rest of the world just kinda fades away. That... That's just amazing to me.
