... surprising the crap out of me. He blocks me from my path and precedes to have a discussion with me. He is interested in the book I'm carrying, Special Events, and asks if I'm a planner or a student, interested in what I'm studying. I'm so sad, I think he's a known event planner looking for young people who would be interested in working with his company, so I keep talking to him. The man introduces himself as Frankie; Frankie loves my name, calling it a Spanish name... but little does he know it's Roman. A little info on this Frankie character: He is a court lawyer down at City Hall; grew up on the lower east side, but for the past 10 years has been living in Brooklyn. The creepy part comes next. He asks me where I live, "So, you live on Mott St., Mulberry?" We are one block away from Mulberry, and yeah, I live in the area. But I am not about to share my place of residence with Frankie, a man I just met. I just smile and point, telling him I live downtown. Maybe he thinks Chinatown; maybe he thinks Financial District... no matter, as long as he doesn't know where I live. "Are you going home? Let me walk you... unless you're going to meet your boyfriend," he adds with a grin. I smirk. "No, I just left him. I'm going to the grocery store." "Oh, okay." I start to walk away, "Bye," I say quickly. "Oh, all right. Well, good luck with your studies." Yeah... whatever he says. He does not strike me as creepy or disturbing... but he is in his mid-30s to early 40s... and I'm in my early 20s. Too weird, this Frankie. Anyhow... I go to a grocery store in Chinatown, and on my way home, walking on Centre St., I witness a most hilarious thing...

It's such a beautiful day today. I go up to the park to hang out with the intention of reading... but this does not happen. Instead, I enjoy the gorgeous weather brought upon me and soak it all up. Fully satisfied, I take the subway back down to Spring St. While sitting on the 6, I catch the man sitting next to me eyeing my book, Special Events. I don't say anything and just continue starring ahead at the Cingular Rollover Minutes advertisement. The subway announcer mentions some of the usual jargon and as usual I ignore it. The man sitting next to me asks if the next stop is Spring St. I say yes. He asks if it goes to Canal St. Yes. He asks if Canal St. is closer to the festival (San Genarro). No, Spring St. is. He thanks me as the subway pulls into the Spring St. stop. I get out and walk up the stairs, cross the street, and as I cross the street, I look behind and point towards the festival to the man. He nods. I continue and make my way down Cleveland St. but all of a sudden, this man stops me from behind, pulls me aside, and stops me across from the dance center...

... I have no idea where the hell I'm going. This neighborhood is pitch black, there are so many turns, and this large tow truck is following me like white on rice. What am I going to do? I pull over to the side to look at the little piece of paper where I copied down the directions to the woman's house courtesy of mapquest. But guess what? I can't see. I am despising this rental more and more right now. I can't turn on the car lights because there is no switch. They only go on if I open the car door or right after I turn the engine on or off. I am NOT going to open the door so that some cat can jump on my lap. I try to catch the dim light offered from the turning off of the engine, but squint as I might... no go. I quickly open the door, take a mental photograph of what I wrote down, close the door, and close my eyes. Not to relax, but to conjur up the mental photograph I took. I look at the image, and figure out how to backtrack my ass out of this dark neighborhood. Thank goodness my photographic memory still comes to use in times of emergency. So I make it home safe and sound. But when I pull my car into the garage, I don't dare touch the sample bag. I let the bag sit in the car until the next day and I sanitize the bag down. Just the exterior, where the cat touched. It's not like I'm anal or anything.

... two giant yellow eyes are coming my way! Eeeeks! Okay, yes, they belong to that of a truck. But it is dark outside, and getting late. Plus, the woman on the phone told me to expect to wait 60 minutes. I turn around, and see the cat's gone. Good for that. Still on the phone, I wave maniacally at the truck... pause... then think to myself: what if this is NOT the truck that is supposed to come and here I am waving it down to stop? What if the driver thinks I'm trying to solicit myself? What if he comes and tries to kill me? I am going crazy. And Grace can't help laughing. Great. I see the AAA logo on the side of the truck and think it is pretty much okay. So I hop off the car and wait next to the truck. This stupid drive is taking his fine damn time... I wait for 4 minutes in the dark, illuminated only by those giant nostril headlights of his truck, which aren't even pointed in my direction. He finally comes around, goes to the passenger side of my Cavalier, and tries to jimmy the door unlock. He says he hopes he can do it. Wonderful... exactly what I need to hear. He gets the door unlocked, but I am most certainly not amused. I try to hurry up the process by showing him my ID and signing some form... and off on my way I go. Driving for 5 minutes, I realize something and stop my car. Damn...

So most of you know that I have this new job working for CUTCO. CUTCO makes high quality cutlery, and as a gal who loves food in all shapes, sizes and forms, this was exciting. I go to people's homes, show them the product, and they give me a check, averaging around $300. Oh, and they don't even know me. Let me share my Hacienda Heights demo adventure. I'm driving an Enterprise rental car because someone rearended me in LA two weeks ago and my Camry is in the shop. This substitute car is a Cavalier without an alarm... and has manual windows and locks. Can I just say how much I don't like manual locks? Holding my large CUTCO sample bag in one arm, my phone and pocket knife in the other's arm, I lock the door. Then I realize, shit... this pocket knife is NOT my key and my key is NOT in my pocket. The key is, quite clearly, left in the locked substitute vehicle. I pull out the Double-D edge knife on my pocket knife to try to unlock the door, but it doesn't work and I don't want my blade stuck in the lock, so I pull it back out. I am a few minutes late for the demo already, and I figure I can come back and deal with this later, so I go ahead to do the demo. I call CUTCO's office and Erick, my assistant manager, finds me the number for Enterprise's roadside assistance. After my demo finishes, I go ahead and give Enterprise a call. While I'm waiting, I notice how incredibly dark this street is. The only lights come from a couple of the houses... no street lamps whatsoever. Finally someone tells me that Chevy will come and unlock the door for me... within the next sixty minutes. SIXTY MINUTES??? I am not going to wait 60 freakin' minutes! But I have no choice. So I stand and wait. And I get bored. I call Grace, to provide some human contact on this dark, dark street. I talk to her... and I hear a cat's meow. Yes, I am a vegetarian. But that, by all means, does not make me an animal lover. I am not too fond of domestic felines... and this one looks like a stray. How else would one describe a cat prowling alone through the dark at 10:30 pm? I freak out. While on the phone. I walk away, and the cat follows. I cross the street, and the cat follows. Here, my head is thinking... and of course I share this with Grace: do cats smell fear? Will it bite? How can I get it to quit following me? I keep walking around the street, but this cat insists on following me. Grace suggests I sit on top of my car. And yes, how shallow of me, but I am wearing my white jeans... I don't want them to get dirty. And yet, I have no choice. So I crawl on top of the silver Cavalier, still on the phone. The cat goes away... or so I thought. It begins playing with my CUTCO sample bag. Lovely. If it gets into the bag and the knives, I am going to have cat blood all over my kit. Just plain lovely. I am never going to use these knives again no matter how often the knives are washed. After sharing this with Grace, I look up and see that... oh my gosh...