Creeper

A few nights ago, I went to Barnes and Noble in my new town. It’s wonderful here because there are more than four tables backed against one wall with only three outlets to plug in electronic devices. Maybe that’s because the concept of hanging out at a bookstore to go online hasn’t caught on in these here parts yet.  It was fairly empty that particular evening so there were a lot of places for people to sit. So, why an older, Hispanic gentleman chose the table right in front of mine to sit was a little confusing.

Within a few minutes, it became clear why he chose that table out of all the others. Although he was holding onto a magazine as if he were reading it, every time I glanced up, I caught him staring at me. Not only that, it looked like he was rolling his tongue around in his mouth as he rubbed one leg with his free hand (not THAT leg, his actual leg). After what seemed like too long, I got up to leave. But I decided to give Mr. Creeper a little advice on how to do it the right way.

“Do you speak English?”

“Yes, I do, I-“

“Let me give you some advice: if you’re gonna stare at someone, do it right. Sit where you won’t be noticed, be sure to glance at your reading material a few times and for Pete’s sake, stop sucking your tongue and rubbing your leg. It makes you look like a creeper.”

The look on his face was priceless and I felt bad as I walked out of the bookstore. Maybe I was too mean. It was possible he had lazy eyes and he had to look straight ahead to see the magazine he was holding above his lap. Then I started thinking my ego was perhaps bigger than it should be and made a mental note to myself: thou shalt not assume it’s all about you. I felt better.

Two days later, on a Saturday, I decide to hang out at the bookstore again. There were plenty of tables, but I decided to sit in one of their plush two-chair stations with my laptop, coffee and bagel. I pulled the little corner table that was between the chairs close to me and set my coffee, bagel and keys on it as I settled into writer mode. It wasn’t too crowded today and as I scanned the crowd, I noticed the older Hispanic gentleman had just walked in. We made brief, one second eye contact. Oh, boy. I was probably going to have to apologize.

Not so fast. Ten minutes later, he plopped into the other plush chair at my station with a magazine and a big book. He reached all the way over to the corner table I had pulled close to me and placed his coffee on it. Then, he settled into his chair and pretended to read. I say he pretended, not because it was highly unlikely that he would be interested in the “Law of Power,” but more because in the ten minutes he sat there, he didn’t turn a single page.

Okay, so maybe he was perving out when it came to me, because there were two other plush chairs behind him that were unoccupied, yet he chose the one in front of me. Well, at least he wasn’t rolling his tongue in his mouth or rubbing his leg and I didn’t catch him staring at me once. It was still a weird feeling to be that close to someone that was obviously creeping me. So, when my friend called and said she was heading over to meet up with me, I very quickly moved my stuff to a table for two, leaving Mr. Creepy Castro to his one page in a book.

However, it wasn’t a few minutes later that I noticed Mr. Creepy Castro had moved himself to a table not far from me. He was ‘reading’ “Gun” magazine from the side of his face, because his eyes were fixed on my table. He was doing the tongue and leg trick. Should I explain to him that he was still being way obvious about his Pervidiculous tendencies and that there was not enough distance between us for me not to notice?

Nope, think I’ll sit here and write about it …