Had a weird experience at lunch today. I’m in Lichfield, as I’m putting a newspaper together for a company we work with. Lunchtime came and I wandered into Lichfield town centre. I’ve been to Lichfield a few times, so I know my way around a bit. I got my lunch from Subway but went into McDonalds as I needed the toilet. As I was sitting in the cubicle, I heard a man come into the toilets. I was okay, because I was in the cubicle. But after a short time I heard the man start talking:
“That doesn’t look good. No, not Siren. Siren. What happened? No no no. You ran out of petrol. You ran out of petrol. What happened Siren! Wednesday?”
He sounded drunk. I don’t like drunk people. I didn’t like this drunk person. He kept drying his hands, despite not having been to the toilet. I stayed in the cubicle for as long as I could, but after a while I realised that the drunk man might want to use the cubicle. He certainly wasn’t using the urinals. Eventually, I plucked up the courage to leave the confines of the cubicle.
As I left, he saw me. Damn. I had hoped that he would completely miss me as I entered, washed my hands, dried my hands and left the toilets. Then the worst happened. He turned and continued talking, this time directing his nonsensical ramblings in my general direction. Fortunately, I was in a toilet, which is always the best place for sh*tting yourself. Although, if I wasn’t in there then I wouldn’t be in that situation, so essentially I was in the best and the worst place I could be at that time.
“Siren?” he asked, “What happened? Siren? No, no, not Siren. Wednesday. That doesn’t look good. Not good at all. Siren? Siren?”
He kept asking after a Siren – it definitely wasn’t Simon – and since I couldn’t get past him I thought I’d better try and communicate with him.
“I’m not Siren.” I said. I don’t know why, because the amount of times he said it even I was beginning to question whether I was Siren.
Me talking seemed to have stunned him, as he stopped talking and just started looking around. I took this opportunity to dart out of the door. As I got out of the toilet, I suddenly realised I hadn’t washed my hands. Damn. Should I risk going back in? Maybe I’d return and he’d still be asking for Siren. Or maybe he wouldn’t be in there at all and this was all just a crazy delusion on my part. I decided not to return and washed my hands when I got back to work.
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