"Only You" vs. Flirting with Clowns
"Only you, Deb..." and laughs.
...because No. It's not only me. There are other people in the world who are willing to go outside the box, to eclipse convention, to take the risk. Dare to follow possibility. We do that; it's not only me.
Every year I go with my friend Liz to Markoff's Haunted Forest. Please disavow any other scary thing you've been visiting in the DMV; this is what you wanted all along.
My favorite bits are the pirate ship, the Viking encampment, the dragon graveyard and the hardcore bus (it's like being in a Mad Max movie.) I love the giant Krampus, which this year was wearing the LED counter telling you when it's your turn to enter the forest. I hope I'm not giving away too much here. The sets are really amazing. I'd love to do a daylight tour and get the art student's view of what's going on in the dark. If someone wanted to go again next weekend, I'd gladly go along.
Also, if I went along next weekend, I might wangle a date with a clown.
I flirt with him every year - pretty sure it's the same one, though it's hard to tell. Liz even reminded me of last year while we walked up to the entrance. And when we got the lecture - do not touch, punch, stab, or bite the staff - I did ask whether we may lick the clowns. I was somewhat told no.
To be fair, he starts it. I mean, if a creepy clown flirts with you, what ya gonna do? Okay, fine. What am I gonna do?
Clown (in my face): I'm gonna put GPS dust on you so I can find you, okay...?
Also me: ...are you single?
Clown (a little confused but going with it): Yesssssss...
Me: Are you old enough to date?
Clown: I'm old enough...TO KNOW BETTER! ::maniacal laughter:: (I mean he's working, after all.)
Me, walking away: Another one not old enough to date...
Clown yelling in my direction: I'm 53 years old!
Me, turning slightly: I'm also 53.
...and then I went off down the dark and creepy path through the woods.
Let's parse this: here's a guy I only come into contact with once a year in the same geographic location (assuming it's the same clown, which I'm pretty sure it is.) I'm only acknowledging that he might be a viable date. It's been suggested to me that I should've given him my digits, which theoretically I could do; I know where he'll be same time next weekend on my birthday. But that defies deb-logic.
In my world, we would have to connect at some other geographic point to establish validity. And what are the odds of my knowing it's him, assuming he goes into the world sans clown-suit? He may always be a clown; I don't know.
Well, that's easy. I was wearing my butt-ugly, super-warm Michigan stocking cap, hand-knitted by somebody's grandma and bought at the Salvation Army. It's identifiably ugly. I've left it in the pool hall and it was returned to me - it's that distinctive. He could identify himself if he saw it.
This has all the makings of a great love story, doesn't it? Like Peter Kidd said: "In the end I gave in to my fear and married a clown."
This, friends, is the kind of thing that is truly Only Me.
And nobody said it.
Identifiably: Oxford Definition
Spellcheck is also a huge pet peeve, especially when it thinks "identifiably" isn't a word but I can misspell its name and it's fine with it.