True Story©… Gullible’s Travels

 


     Thursday of last week was my birthday…
I say that to say that I was off celebrating.

     Next week is my daughter’s birthday.  For the first time in her whole life, she will not be with me on her birthday.  She will be with my ex wife a woman I had a wedding with once.  I say that to say that we are celebrating this week/end instead.

     Wife person came up with the idea that we jump over to Sweet Valley Ranch in Fayetteville for the dinosaur thing today, I can report back on my findings when we’ve done it.

     The point of this story is yesterday though…
We had to clear the front room of the house before we left to prepare it for some contractors to come through and do their thing on our floors, then take the dogs to the sitter’s place, then grab one more niece and hit the road.  Only a 90ish minute trip to the destination and there we are.

This is where the shit gets crazy.

     We arrive to the hotel and I am unloading the back of the wagon and the kids while wife person checks us in.  Pretty mundane series of events, as far as I am concerned and the two of you have read here, right?
I happened to see a young Caucasian woman walking past me and look at me – staring – with some inexplicable-at-the-time heightened interest.

Me: “Can I help you?”

Her: “N-no…  Sorry!”

And with that, she quickly scurried away to wherever the fuck ever she was from or going.
Strange…

     The night progresses and we find a seafood spot to eat dinner because the littles are obsessed with shrimp for some reason, then we retreat back to the hotel to enjoy some time at the pool before bed, in wait for what will be today’s big adventure.  Arriving back to the hotel, we see the SAME woman, still reckless eyeballing.  I am considering placing her on pimp arrest and putting her to work out there, but this ain’t my town and a lot of people around Cumberland county are armed.  I will keep my hands to myself on this trip.
Wife person, though?  She also clocked the stares and a simpler perusal of her twitter feed would prove that she often wakes up and choses violence.

Wife Person: “Excuse me…  DO you need something?”

Woman: “N-no…  It just--…  I--…  Your husband looks familiar.”

Me: “I do NOT know this woman.”

Wife Person: “Shut up…”

Woman: “No, I mean, like I have met you guys somewhere before.”

Wife Person: “Well we aren’t from here, so it isn’t likely.”

Woman: “I figured that.  I’m not from here either.”

Wife Person: “Well you enjoy the rest of your night.”

Woman: “Thank you.”

     Crisis averted, right?
RIGHT?!!?
Nope™

     We spend an hour or two at the pool with the kids and head back to the room to put them in their showers and down to rest for Thursday’s adventures.  We chill on the balcony and I have a glass of bourbon while she has a cider and we talk until we’re both ready for bed.
Or so we planned…

     About 20-25 minutes later, there is FRANTIC knocking at our room door.  I look out the peep hole and you can probably guess who it is.  I wasn’t TRYING to deal with this shit myself.  “Wife person, you’re on.”

     She opened the door with me standing close by to handle any physical situation, but the woman wasn’t violent, just frantic as fuck.  She tried to push past my wife and was babbling some shit that sounded like “do you remember me?  We met at the boardwalk in April!”
[Phlip note: holy shit, it’s Jennifer!]
I should explain that Fayetteville is just about as close to the beach we visited for spring break as my house is, so this is not as random as it may seem.

     She continued…
“You gave me a reading from my dad, and you stopped because I couldn’t pay!  I have money now.  Can you PLEASE connect with him again!?”

     Wife person: “what the FUCK, Phillip?!!?”

     I’m on my heels now.  I had finessed a couple of days on the beach monetizing the mannequin challenge and faking being a psychic using some shit I saw on 2002 episode of South Park.  Luckily, I have not yet acknowledged a damn thing that I have been accused of.
I backed out of it…  “I’m sorry…  We travel a lot and everywhere we go – no matter what state or country – someone tells me that I look like somebody else.  Lord, I feel sorry for whatever hapless bastard has to walk around with this face.  I’m afraid you have the wrong person.”

     IT WORKED!!!  Dejectedly, she backed up toward the door and started sobbing as she turned and walked back up the hallway.  Wife person wished her luck in finding who or whatever she was looking for and we closed/locked the door.

Wife Person: “That WAS the girl from when we were leaving the beach, wasn’t it?”

Me: “HELL fuckin’ yeah!”


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