About That Stranger

Well, did you give any thought to my PROBLEM? To be honest with you, I didn't really expect that you would. It's not your problem. I fault myself. Here I am trying to get you thinking about my PROBLEM and I haven't really confided in you, have I?

Let me tell you about my first encounter with this "person" who told me about my overdue Report. You'll find this interesting, perhaps amusing, even if you don't care a fig about my Problem.

Religiously, every other day I work out at a nearby Fitness Center, which is really a sweat shop. After all, that's what people do when they go there to work out -- they sweat. Imagine, paying a sweat shop to let you work up a sweat. I'm on a treadmill for 35 minutes, more or less. While I walk as fast as I can, I imagine that I'm running away from Mr. D. who I know is gaining on me -- each day, he gets a day closer. Then I push pedals on a unicycle for 10 minutes. Adding the two together, the machines tell me I've gone nearly 3 or more miles; yet, I know full well, I haven't moved an inch. Then I spend 10 minutes on hydraulic machines that simulate lifting weights in a variety of postures; altogether, I might have lifted in the aggregate the equivalent of a few tons.

At the Center the patrons come in many shapes and sizes, about as eclectic as any big city would display. Our Center is a 60,000 sq. fit. facility; the muscle machinery is on the second floor. Across from the wide stairway leading to the second floor, and adjacent to an elevator, is a snack alcove, about 20' x 20', with a couple vending machines and two small tables and about a dozen comfortable chairs . That's where I first spotted this person some weeks ago. He was wrapped in a heavy dark fur coat, his head almost completely covered. The coat reminded me of those raccoon coats popular with college students in the 1920s. At first glance I wondered if it was a friendly trained bear seated at the table in the alcove.

For several weeks, this apparition was seated at one of the tables. Sometimes there would be someone else sitting next to him. On maybe one or two occasions there were two other people sitting with him. After a week or so, I began to make mental note to ask one of the staff who was this person -- always wearing a heavy fur coat when the place was loaded with fans and air vents and everyone was wearing unfashionable casual skimpy. Did he have some disease that destroyed his built-in thermostat? Or -- as I amused myself -- was this one of those tacky reality shows with an actual bear there to entice the unwary to come forth and chat and be suddenly assaulted by a TV crew with a toothy reporter accompanied by an hysterical audience laugh track?

The bear-person was turned sideways when I walked over to his table, to simply ask -- what? Can you believe, I had challenged myself to finally approach and ask but failed to rehearse what my initial query would be? (Perhaps, I should have used a Dr. Watson approach: "I say there, my dear fellow, what cruel malady has struck you so unkindly as to force you to wear a heavy raccoon coat in this heated environment, this hot house?") But I didn't. I stood for a moment and before I could compose an appropriate question, the bear stared at me for just a second and then abruptly asked in a most unbear-like voice --

YOU'RE LATE! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?

(to be continued)