The $5 Club

Back in the days of my youth, a friend of mine and I would occasionally go out and have a drink or ten in the local drinking establishments.  We found that we had this uncanny ability to always attract the weirdest people (generally weird Men) in a place, wherever we went.

We eventually started referring to these gents as "$5 club members", which arose from the fact that one of  us would say, upon viewing the weirdest, most stand-out character in the place, "God, I bet you $5 that guy comes over here."  And you know, we were always right.  I don't know if we just looked gullible, or fun and approachable, or if we were just too dumb to not catch the eye of weirdos, but, whatever it was, we had the touch.

As time went on, I realized that I had the uncanny ability to attract the weirdos, even when not with my friend, and not in a drinking establishment.  Back in the days when I took public transportation to work and school, the "Calling all $5 Club Members" sign on my forehead was quite the attraction.  Homeless people, random bible thumpers, people who sang aloud to themselves, I was their quarry.  And it wasn't just strange Men.  It was anyone.

Fast forward to today, where the gym seems to be my new stomping grounds.  I had been avoiding the stare of a rather strange woman who is a regular there.  I say "strange" because she stares quite a bit, puts the treadmill on the highest elevation and speed and then hangs on for dear life, stops every three seconds to either wipe her sweat from her face or to tie her shoes, and sometimes, she grips the handles and walks backwards.  No joke.  There is something a little off about this woman.

I recently had no choice but to tread two machine distances away from her, because I was looking for a television with ESPN running.  Well, that was the end of me.  Apparently even with earphones plugged in, my head either down or looking up at the television screen, and a stern look upon my face, I still looked like the right target for a conversation about what was going on in the Dr. Oz show, two screens over.  I couldn't hear half of the things she was saying, and it became this yelling conversation about women who were "really fat" (her words, not mine) who had lost a significant amount of weight.

"WOW! LOOK HOW FAT SHE WAS!!!"
"WOW."
"SHE LOST A LOT OF WEIGHT!! I WONDER WHAT SHE DID???"
"YES."
"HERE'S A FRUIT DRINK RECIPE SHE USED!  IT HAD PINEAPPLES, STRAWBERRIES, FROG LEGS........(continues to read the entire ingredient list posted on the screen)"
"WOW!"

Thankfully, the gym gods smiled upon me and she eventually moved on to another machine.

I was once told by a Male friend of mine that, before he met me, he thought I looked "mean" and a little "stuck up."  Another Male told me that I seemed "unapproachable."  When I asked these fellows what I was doing at the time in order for them to form this opinion, one mentioned that I was eating lunch by myself, and the other said that I was reading a book.  Apparently, I should look more jolly when performing these tasks.  Sadly, though, my mean, unapproachable-ness only seems apparent to normal folk.

It doesn't prevent random strangers in a store from asking me what curtain rod would look better in their home (huh?? How would I have any idea on that?), whether Fat-free soup would taste disgusting, or insisting that I was wearing false eyelashes and poking my eye in an attempt to prove the point.  I'm not making this up.

Anyway, whatever it is, at least it makes for some interesting stories.  I have yet to figure out why I seem "approachable" by strangers, but ogre-like to the normal folk.  I suppose I had better sort it out before I attempt to meet William Levy.  In the meantime, I'm going to attempt to pull the plug on the "Calling all $5 Club Members" sign, and sing to myself and smile gaily whilst eating my lunch and reading books in public.  That should work.