Two houses ago, our abode was very close to what can only be described as a local post office. Where the counter staff remembered you and there was always a conversation going amongst everyone in the place. I realized how familiar I’d become one day when I was treated to some post office tales. And what tales they were...
It all started when I was in line
at the PO, waiting my turn to get postage put on a whole stack of mailables. As
I stood there, a bit lost in my own thoughts, another regular customer asked
the post office dude behind the counter if there was a public restroom
The answer: a resounding no.
But that was all it took to start
the stories coming. As it turned out, that both folks working the counter that
day had done time at the downtown branch of the PO here in the ‘Burg.
The downtown post office is an
institution here. Wedding invites are mailed here because of the unique
postmark. The building itself is very cool – classic architecture. Groovy, huh?
But its genteel façade is a
jarring juxtaposition to the weird shit that often takes place there, based on what
I heard from the two veterans who escaped its insanity for the relative calm of
a quiet neighborhood post office.
Once upon a time, there were
public potties at post office branches. Yeah. I’d wager a guess that post
office bathrooms are just a notch up on the glamour scale from a gas station
Yes, public bathrooms -- until it
was discovered that a gentleman was using the men’s room at the downtown post
office to empty his colostomy bag.
But that's nowhere close to the
most "interesting" post office happening.
A woman was standing in line,
nonchalant, minding her own business, waiting to conduct her postal
When all at once she was hit.
By a dude who ejaculated all over
her back. Then ran out before anyone around realized what had happened.
Ew. Ew. EW.
Let’s all take a moment to
recover from this revelation, shall we?
The security video showed that he
had whipped himself out upon entering the building -- and no one noticed until
it was WAY too late.
I cannot imagine what that poor
woman felt like or subsequently went through. Now, I’ve seen my fair share of
exposure over the years – from flashers wearing skin-colored pants carrying
their junque in the palm of their hand as they strolled down the street to a
naked man walking through the University Police Department parking lot in
college at 7 o’clock in the morning.
But this. Ick. To me, it’s
almost akin to being sexually violated, albeit in a very unorthodox fashion.
These stories beat the cuckoo
stories I have from a grocery store I used to patronize (RIP Albertson’s): There
was the time I saw a guy try to shoplift some meat by putting it down his pants.
And once, I was in line in the express lane behind a guy who matter-of-factly
opened up a bottle of rubbing alcohol and took a big swig. Then there’s the
little old lady who dressed like Baby Jane (from “What Ever Happened to…” fame)
and cruised down the aisles of the store in her Rascal scooter.
The capacity of human beings for
achieving the weird and the perverse never ever ceases to amaze me. And I love
it. But you knew that already.
Speaking of weird: my favorite
On-the-Road sighting of recent memory was an older gentleman, in a white shirt
with epaulettes, with a Captain Kangaroo mustache and a captain's hat, smoking
a pipe while putting down the road on his knock-off Vespa. You can't make this stuff
It's what makes the world go crazily round.