An Awkward Encounter

So as I've mentioned, I'm knee deep in tech week for my latest show. We have our final (and open) dress rehearsal tonight. Needless to say, this week in every production, tensions run high. I've been surprisingly not too stressed, but I haven't really seen anyone (Maestro included) outside of the office and the production this week.

So of course, I'm all about running out as soon as we get out at 11:15 pm last night to hit our weekly Wednesday night haunt so that I can see somebody... ANYBODY... who is not associated with this show for even five minutes. By the time I got there, my food was cold and The Maestro and Troy were ready to go home. They obliged me... let me eat my cold calamari and gulp down a beer, and then we stood outside for awhile as we were saying goodbye. Just as we were all about to go our separate ways, a large, inebriated man approached our cluster of friends and stood in the middle of us. For 45 seconds, he just stood in front of Troy, not looking at anyone, acting like he was supposed to be there. When he finally broke his freeze, he did it to move with a purpose right towards me. He kept coming forward... I took a step back and held the Maestro's hand a little tighter.

And then he looked at me and said, "The thing is..."

Me: The thing is what?
Weird man: Can I ask you something?
Me: Alright...
Weird Man: Can I smell your hair?
....awkward silence....
Me: No.
Weird Man: Come on! Why not. Not just the ends over here...?
He takes a step closer and reaches out toward me. I step back.
Me: NO!

Then Weird Man proceeded to look behind him to the woman who had just snuck out of the bar to grab a smoke (sidebar... OH HOW I LOVE SMOKE-FREE BARS IN BALTIMORE!) and said, "I would ask her, but white girls just don't got that smell." And with that he hobbled off.

I really don't know how to handle that situation... still... almost 12 hours later. But white girls, apparently you don't have that smell. Whatever that smell may be.

Short story long, this is my plea to Sheila Dixon to clear the riff-raff out of Fells Point. If you do, Mayor Dixon, you could consider it the best Christmas present ever. Thanks bunches!