So, at around 9:00 tonight I was walking into my local Target, because that's what I do and because I needed some boring household items and the new David Sedaris book. On this particular Saturday night, Target was hoppin' moreso than usual. There were about 10-15 people waiting outside the store, talking and socializing, and the parking lot was about half full.
Walking toward the store, I encountered a guy, about 55-60 years old. He didn't look crazy or homeless or like a serial killer--or what I think a serial killer should look like (damn you, Trinity, for f'ing with my notions about what serial killers look like). Our exchange went something like this:
Guy [confused]: What's going on?
Me: What do you mean what's going on?
Guy: It's nine o' clock, right?
Me: Oh, you mean because it's so busy? Eh, that's just 'cause it's Saturday.
Guy [pointing at sky]: It's. . .dark outside.
Me: Yeah. It's nine o' clock.
[guy pauses for a few seconds and then his eyes widen]
Guy: Oh no! Don't tell me it's nine o' clock AT NIGHT!
Me: Yeah, it's nine o' clock at night.
Guy: Oh dear. I just slept fourteen hours without realizing it.
Poor guy was all out of sorts. That must've been one hell of a coma nap.
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