Why am I always alone when this stuff happens?

This afternoon, as I was sitting at the light at Hinman and Delaware, I noticed a woman at the bus stop. There was nothing extraordinary about her, really; she was older, maybe in her 60's, and had kind of funky, longish gray hair. Anyway, as I watched her, she pulled out from her dollar store bag a bottle of talcum powder, the contents of which she proceeded to dump down her pants. She was, I could tell, trying to be somewhat surreptitious about this, tugging slightly at the waistband and holding the powder bottle closely, but there was no denying what she was doing.

As I watched this, I burst out in hysterics. I mean, sure, we all need a little freshening up now and then, right? But something about this scene just seemed so odd to me, and I had to laugh. What sucked, though, was that I had no one with me to share in this oddity. I just think it would have been funnier if someone else had seen it, too. This doesn't surprise me, as I spend a great deal of my free time by myself. That is to say, when I'm not at work or out socializing, I am usually by myself. And even when I go out, I normally arrive and depart solo. This is not a bad thing, but when I see something funny, I do sometimes wish there were someone sitting in the car with me so that they can at least corroborate my story.

And I only see stuff like this when I'm by myself.

A perfect example of this is That Guy Who Walks Down Delaware. I see this guy every day, sometimes several times a day. He wears a red cap, sunglasses, has a white moustache, and carries a black bag, looking ever determined like a man on a mission. Every day, no matter what time of year it is, I see this guy walking. I see him as far down as Forest Lawn and as far north as Kenmore. I've seen him early in the morning, I've seen him late at night. A couple of months ago, I saw him exiting an apartment building in Kenmore. But whenever I ask anyone about him, no one knows who I'm talking about. I feel like I'm in a Twilight Zone episode sometimes, the way people look at me quizzically and make that face like, "oooo-kay..." when I talk about him. And whenever he walks past my work, by the time I'm able to point him out to anyone, he's out of sight. That Guy moves pretty swiftly.

I see him so much that I'd decided a while back that if I ever got close enough, I was going to talk to him, ask him what his deal was, ask him where he's always walking to, maybe try and get a glimpse into that bag. One day I saw him in the laundromat, but I was only there to pick up my cleaning, so I didn't have time to try and sidle up to him and strike up a conversation. I got my chance again a couple weeks ago, and I chickened out. I was shopping for shoes in Target, and because I was shopping for work shoes, I was in the boys' section (I have little feet). As I was trying on some super cute athleisure lace-ups, this figure cast a shadow over me. I looked up, and there was That Guy, shopping for new sneakers in the mens' section. I froze. I got nervous. I mean, here was a guy that I have seen and wondered about every day for the last four years, and he was practically breathing down my neck. I kept thinking I should ask him about his shoes, maybe make a comment about how he must go through a lot of sneakers with all the walking he does. I wanted to snap a photo of him, and send it to a bunch of people, but as fate would have it, my phone was in the car. Curses! In the end, I walked away having not said a peep to him.

Since then, I've continued to see That Guy, but never do I ever have anyone with me when I do. But at least now I know where he got those new sneakers.