The Conversation

Brady

I was out walking my white boxer, Brady. It was a dark evening, but I felt that there was no place safer than a small town. Besides, Brady was pretty big and could be intimidating if you didn’t know him. As I was heading back, walking down a road with no houses or street lamps, a large, older car pulled up beside me. It was dark, but my guess was an early 1970s Cadillac. This happened in 2006. The driver rolled down the window. I couldn’t see her very well and had no clue who it could be.

“Do I know you?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” I answered. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, I know you,” she said. “You went to Georgetown.”

“I’m sorry, you must have me confused with someone else,” I said. “Good evening, I must be on my way.”

“But you did go to Georgetown, didn’t you?” she asked.

“No.”

“You have never been in Georgetown?” she asked.

“Like in Washington, that Georgetown?” I asked. Don’t ask me why I didn’t turn and run.

“Yes.”

“Well, I’ve physically been in Georgetown, but I didn’t go to school there,” I said.

“Oh, then you know Lloyd Connor then,” she said.

“Never heard of him.”

“But you went to Georgetown, you must know him,” she said.

“I didn’t go to Georgetown,” I said.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

There was a pause. “So, where did you go?” she asked.

I was a little agitated by now so gave a flippant answer, “Public School Number 35.”

“Oh.” A long pause. “So, what year did you graduate?”

“When did I graduate from Public School Number 35?”

“No, from Georgetown.”

“I didn’t graduate from Georgetown.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sure that you had to drop out is a sore point. It’s dark. Do you need a ride home?”

“No,” I answered.

“Why not?”

“I’m out walking my dog.”

“Who?”

“My dog,” I said. I pointed. “Brady.”

“I don’t like Muslims,” she said.

“Brady isn’t a Muslim,” I said.

“They’re violent.”

“Except for biting the last person who tried to get me to ride with them, Brady has never been too violent,” I answered.

“Terrorists.”

“Brady has never committed an act of terrorism. At least not yet, though he may start if he doesn’t get home soon.”

“Do you want a ride?”

“No,” I said. I started to turn away.

“Did you know Lloyd Connor well?” she asked

“What?”

“When you were at Georgetown,” she said.

“I never went to Georgetown.”

“Do you want a ride?”

“No.”

“What do you do?” she asked.

“I sell body parts on the Black Market,” I answered.

“I don’t like Muslims,” she said.

“Thanks for telling me, I’ll make sure no Muslim gets your prejudice body parts when I sell them,” I said.

“Do you need a ride?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I answered. “Goodbye.”

I turned and walked away.

She pulled up beside me again.

“Are you sure you don’t need a ride?”

I didn’t look at her as I said, “Positive.” I kept walking.

“OK. Well tell Lloyd I said ‘hi’ when you next see him.”

This is based on a real conversation. A few nights later I told the story at our Lion’s Club meeting. Everyone laughed and told me who the mystery person was. I’ve met her a few times since then. She never brought up Georgetown or Muslims since.

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9 thoughts on “The Conversation

  1. Pingback: If We Were Having Coffee – 6/6/2015 | Trent's World (the Blog)

  2. Corina

    That’s a funny story! I’m sure it was very frustrating and creepy but now, all these years later, it’s pretty funny! I thought you were going to say she was known for pulling practical jokes on people (or maybe impractical jokes). This sure sounds like it could have been someone’s idea of a joke.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
    1. trentpmcd Post author

      No, I’ve had other conversations that have been almost as surreal. Of course part of what made this so surreal is I decided to play with my responses. I don’t think she noticed. Either that or when she drove away she was thinking, “That guy’s an idiot.”

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      Reply
    1. trentpmcd Post author

      Thanks Karen! I wish I had a transcript of the real conversation. I don’t think I was quite as witty in real life (I know I told her Brady wasn’t a Muslim at least 3 times) but I think it was more surreal.

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