A few years ago we went to one of the largest malls in the area, Crabtree Mall in Raleigh. While Young went into a store with the kids, I decided to wait outside, standing innocently near one of those empty booths, you know, the ones that are used to sell jewelry or watches. Judging from the garish sign on the front, this one was destined to become a car rental boutique.
I’m lounging near the booth with my back to the railing when a lady with three kids approaches me and asks, “Do you have any convertibles?”
I hold up my hands in a kind of fending off gesture and say, “No, I’m not here”.
I’m not here? What the hell does that mean?
In retrospect I suppose I could have done better than that — after all these sales opportunities don’t come along everyday — but there’s hindsight for you. I turned and walked quickly away; fled, according to eyewitness accounts. As for the unfortunate woman with visions of convertible madness dancing in her head, I have to believe that her life was forever divided into the time before the weird sign guy, and the time after.
It is possible that I am here, however.
whoisfenton 