An employee of a small town "liberry" chronicles his quest to remain sane while dealing with patrons who could star in a short-lived David Lynch television series.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Christmas Party, the first

Ash and I headed out to a Christmas party, last night (no, not the "liberry's" party, which we have not yet decided a date for, though we do have an interesting theme for gift exchanging). The host of the party was a fellow I know from church and from The Outdoor Drama What I Did for the Past Two Summers. I've been to parties at his place before and know them to be enjoyable and food-laden events not to be missed. Most of the people at this party were folks I didn't know, being friends of the host. But I did recognize one lady there as a patron at the library and she me--or so I thought.

We had just arrived and I was on my way to the enormous food buffet on a quest to stuff little cheesy fried sausage balls down my gob when the woman spied me and waved me over. I think she even called me by name, though it was sort of loud so I can't be sure. She introduced me to a fellow she said was her nephew and then told him that I was doing a great job "teaching for us." As inaccurate as that sounded, I decided to just let it go in favor of politely excusing myself to the buffet. But she wouldn't let it go.

"You've been at TRI-METRO HIGH for how long, now?"

"Er... I'm not."

She blinked at me for a second then said, "Oh... well... I mean, not now, but you were there?"

"Nooo," I said. "No. Not me."

"Sure, I've seen you there," she said, rather insistently. "I remember seeing you there."

"I'm not a teacher," I said.

The woman stared at me, as though I were making this up. "You're not teaching now, but you were at TRI-HIGH," she said, as though trying to give me an out from my lie.

"Er... uhm... " I said. It didn't occur to me to just tell her, No, actually, you know me from the library where I've had to bust you and your boyfriend off the computers on several occasions, not to mention that I've had to teach, reteach and reteach again the process of attaching files to email to your boyfriend, who's about the most technophobic human being I've ever met and who was nearly in a nervous fit over the process, mananged to screw it all up twice after having FINALLY attached all the files he'd intended to attach and then nearly peed himself begging me to help him do it again, as though I was actually going to deny him assistance. No. Instead, I plunged further down the awkward road of denial.

"I think the only time I've ever been to TRI-HIGH was when I once rehearsed there with the chorale."

"Ohhhhhh," she said, as though the light had suddenly gone on in her head. "That's where!"

Never mind the fact that our chorale rehearsal had been on a Saturday and she had not been there. I decided to let that lie, now that the ajar door of her world seemed firmly shut again. I imagine we'll run into one another at the "liberry" soon enough. I also imagine she'll have no recollection of any of this.

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