Yesterday, I worked at my school's Convocation and as the day came to an end I found myself waiting for my mom on a curb corner in front of the convention centre. There was no Tim Horton's in sight, just a gas station that I avoided going to because of the chance that a creepy truck driver would happen to pop in and give me that creepy stare down that would make me feel self conscious.
As I was sitting on the curb I pulled out my low-battaried iPod and listened to some music, singing really loud perhaps, and watching the random cars pull through the lot. Almost every one gave me a stare down like I was doing something so horribly wrong just by waiting for my mom as she made her way down after work. Not one person asked if I was doing okay, except for this interesting fella' that emerged from an all white, blue-titled, truck. He was bald, wearing black sunglasses (that looked like those ones on the infomercial that try to make you see in HD),a beige hat, a white t-shirt, and a pair of khaki shorts. It's stereotypical to be intimidated by trucks and their drivers and I apologize for being exclusive to them at the moment but you would have probably done the same if you were alone.
"Hello there, how are ya?" He asked me with that truckerish accent.
"Fine," I replied, trying to be the least talkative as possible. Improv conversations with random men are definately a no-no.
He then pulled out his walkie-talkie (not a cell phone, a walkie-talkie) and appeared to be attempting to call someone from inside the convention centre. I got up and walked to the other end of the parking lot, avoiding any verbal contact with this man as possible. At that moment, my mom pulled into the drive way. Sweet, I escaped a truck driver. I don't mean to insult any truck drivers or stereotype them but I was looking out for my own safety. Unfamiliar environment + male truck driver asking how I am + locked convention centre doors = bad situation. Not to mention, I was in a dress. Bad call.
(The Convocation was fun though, just felt like writing about the creeper I met on my way out).