Last night I was headed to dinner with Heather in West Hollywood and we parked for a moment in front of a laundromat, while waiting for the parking to open up near the restaurant. We were sitting there chatting about energy vampires, and I saw this man in my rear view mirror, walk up behind the truck.
Toothpick thin, wearing all black except for a ratty red tie, which he kept doing and undoing as he walked toward us. A larger man was rounding up a bicycle in front of my truck; the two knew each other because they started talking loudly in what sounded like Russian back and forth.
The thin man approached my window, which was rolled down and started shouting at me urgently in Russian. He was so animated I thought he was going to start jumping up and down any second. I laughed, nervous, and said, what?? What do you want? He repeated it over and over. In Russian.
Then I rolled up the window, because it was clear the man was insane. He signaled to his partner, who rolled up behind my truck as I was trying frantically to back out of the parking lot and be on my way. Heather and I kept exchanging looks-- like, what the fuck?
Finally, we get away, and park down the street. I turn off the engine and that's when I see them, on their bikes, which are old bikes, like something from the early 19th century. Seriously. They come up on my vehicle, and flank me on either side, banging on the windows and saying something over and over in Russian. One motions for me to roll down my window. He's smiling.
I drove off of course. Totally circling the block to lose them and we ended up going somewhere completely different for dinner.
We concluded that we either just had a Nightwatch Russian Vampire moment, or a David Lynch moment.
Why is it, I never seem to have...Steven Spielberg moments. Or even a Kevin Kostner moment. No. There's always some weird person dressed like a homeless version of Donatella Versace climbing out of a dumpster to scare the shit out of me (that really happened). Or five men in black suits stuffing a blow up doll into the trunk of a stretch limo in the middle of downtown. A woman waved a dildo out the window of her car at me the other night.
How did I get trapped in David Lynch's imagination? Let me out!
