Unwanted Visitors

Ever walk into a complete stranger's home? I've done it at least twice. Both times were pretty uncomfortable. At least this last time was funny, too.

I know there are times when it's socially acceptable to allow a stranger into your home. I've let in the guy from the gas company, the apartment building handyman, the LAPD fingerprint specialist after our place was ransacked (who, by the way, lifted a nice fat print off of Rita's jewelry box, which led to a positive I.D., which led to an additional 3 years probation for the bastard and a $50 "restitution" check every month for yours truly). Of course, these people all had my consent to come on in and do their business.

What is not cool, however, is going in to someone's house uninvited. I did not know this in second grade. I remember it like it was 24 years ago. It was a hot summer day, and my mom and I were headed toward the community pool in our condo complex to go swimming. I guess my mom forgot her watch or didn't want the tan line or whatever, but she wanted to know what time it was, so she told me to go find out. I whined that I didn't want to walk all the way back to our place, which was six whole condo units away. So she said fine, just go ask someone. As my mom continued toward the pool, I circled back and came upon an open garage a couple of units down the street. It looked just like my garage (imagine that!), so I squeezed between the cars, opened the door that led to the downstairs hallway, strode into the living room and saw a blonde woman sitting at her breakfast table. She was either smoking or eating a sandwich, or maybe her hair was in curlers (gimme a break, it was 24 years ago). Anyway, she was startled and asked who I was and why I was there, and in response I awkwardly mumbled something like, "My mom wanted to know...what time it is, and...came through the garage..." In my mind, she chased me out with a broom while screaming incoherently, but I think it was actually less dramatic than that. SO awkward. (Involuntary shudder and cringe.)

That was pretty traumatic. And then there's the kind of encounter like what my friend Dave and I experienced on Cinco de Mayo, just last week. Not traumatic, just bizarre. Dave picked me up after work in downtown L.A. and we headed toward our friend Bob's surprise birthday party in Fullerton (Orange County). Bob has a really nice place in one of those new neighborhoods where each home is a different style but somehow they still all look the same. Unfortunately, Dave wrote the address down wrong, so we were screwed from the get-go. We found the wrong house number - 1812 - and just as we were reaching to ring the bell, the door swung open. So Dave and I walked in, and we saw four Asians in the living room, and the older man who opened the door was smiling and looked happy to see us. So we said "hi," introduced ourselves to everyone and, instinctively, took off our shoes. I didn't see Bob's girlfriend...or anyone else I recognized. Hmmm. Weird. The one who looked like the "mother" greeted us and asked who we were there to see -- "Jonathan" or some other boy's name. Vague sense of confusion setting in. She said, in a kind manner, "I don't think I've seen you here before -- no, I'm pretty sure I haven't seen you two around. Have you been here before?" At that point, I think I mouthed the word "Bob." Dave may have asked, "Is Bob here?" It's all a blur in my mind now. I think at this point, Dave had started putting his shoes back on, but I was still befuddled -- probably with my mouth agape. Then "Jonathan" and the other boy with a name came running down the stairs, and I realized the gig was up. "Sorry, I think we're in the wrong house," one or both of us said, and I grabbed my shoes and bolted outside. We heard them cackling behind us in the house as I hopped around and put on my shoes as fast as I could. Then we both just busted a gut laughing at our idiocy. All I could think was, "Dammit, I took off my shoes!" For some reason that was hilarious.