Marina and I were eating lunch at Taco Bell here in Petaluma. I rarely go there anyways and have not eaten inside this Taco Bell yet, so we decided to go in and actually sit down and pretend we were eating a fancy meal.
In the form of a quesalupa.
Anyways, for as cute and quaint and trendy hippy as Petaluma is, the inside of this Taco Bell is not. It was dirty and sketchy and borderline ghetto. When we walked in, it was like the jukebox turned off because all heads turned towards us.
Do we look funny? Do we smell weird? Are we suddenly in India? Why is everyone staring at us?
As we were standing in line to order, this older (like, silver hair, maybe mid sixties older) man in a green Mr. Rogers sweater was standing next to Marina, staring at her. Shamelessly, not blinking, staring. I gave him the shifty eyes and we ordered and went and sat down at a table (not a booth) thinking the moment was over.
Creepy.
They way we are sitting, Marina is facing out to the window and I'm facing the counter. I'm watching creepy green sweater guy as he gets his drink and stops behind Marina and shamelessly stares at her while drinking his drink. I gave him a face which caused Marina to turn around and stare at the guy, who smiles and says "I was just enjoying your ink (her tattoo)"
Um, creepy? And you're at least 65.
And then he sits down NEXT TO US at the table, and asks about her tattoo, where she got it, oh she's from Texas, so am I, and then suddenly switches gears and talks about a documentary he saw about a guy in Austin that killed someone and chopped them up in tiny pieces. All while happily eating his chalupa. I wasn't invited into this one sided conversation (I guess he didn't enjoy my ink) but I'm studying him carefully and suddenly came to a conclusion in my head:
'That's it, this guy is a serial killer.'
He finally got up and left after several painstakingly uncomfortable minutes of his uninvited conversation. But we were convinced he was going to come back. With duct tape and a shovel.
The emergency exit door is that way. Be ready to run. Or squirt hot sauce packets in his eyes.
He never did come back but as we meandered through town the rest of the afternoon our eyes were peeled for creepy old men in green sweaters.
Lesson of the day: If eating at the Petaluma Taco Bell, go through the drive thru. Forever.
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