I was at the Great New York State Fair, waiting outside the Poultry building while my wife went in to take a look around at the rabbits. I can’t go in there because the smell of the bird droppings makes my lungs shrivel up. I was looking wistfully at the Pickle Barrel Sirloin Tips booth, which I had discovered earlier in a different location when it punched me in the face with the smell of glorious steak, wondering if I dared cram any of that awesomeness into my relatively full stomach. While that decision was brewing (spoiler alert: I went for it, and it was one of the best decisions of my life), a couple approached me and the girl asked a question. The girl was blonde, and the guy with her had sort of spiky hair and a high voice. They both seemed to be in their 20s.
Girl: Do you know where the Hot 107.9 booth is? Is it up this way?
Me: I know the I Heart Radio booth is back by the main gate, and they were playing 107.9 today.
Girl: I’m looking for the station booth. Someone told me it was this way. I want to tell them not to play Lana Del Rey.
[I looked this up later, because up to now I hadn’t heard of Lana Del Rey. It was a worthy cause indeed.]
Me: Cool. Tell them not to play Avicii while you’re at it.
Guy: Don’t you think we’d have cute babies if we were a couple?
[I didn’t know how to answer this, so I dodged it. They probably would, but the guy was actually kinda setting off my gaydar. I don’t know how you can say “I thought you were gay” in a way that doesn’t invite a punch if you’re wrong. They were obviously just friends, so maybe he was.]
Girl: (laughing) Stop it. You know, he looks kinda like that guy I had sex with [on some occasion—I don’t remember what she said there]. Remember him?
Girl: How old are you?
Girl: (to friend) See? He was 32, but he looked just like him.
Girl: We’re gonna go find the booth. Thanks for your help.
Me: Good luck.
I should probably point out that I’m somewhat north of an ideal weight, not horribly so, but between that and the non-stylish glasses, I’m not the kind of guy you’d picture hooking up with a party girl. (Maybe the beard played a factor. I’m a sporadic shaver, in spite of not even liking the beard.) I didn’t know whether to be flattered that I looked like somebody she’d slept with, or just plain confused by the whole thing. I went with mostly confused. As ego boosts go it was one of the weirder ones I’ve had.
Even weirder, I’m pretty sure they weren’t drunk; just really, really outgoing. Perhaps they were buzzed a little, but they weren’t carrying or smelling of beer, so I have to assume they were sober, and just being a bit goofy as friends sometimes do. Kind of an odd set of topics to discuss with a stranger though. Extreme extroverts baffle me.