Odd...

Way back in October, I came home from work and got right to doing what I normally do as soon as I get home - I took my dog outside. Bentley knows that this is what we do within minutes of me getting home from work and it's not up for discussion. And so it was one October evening, I came home and took Bentley out for his short evening walk.

I didn't get but a few yards when I hear a guy's voice yell hey - which instantly started my dog barking. Seeing as how it was 11:00 at night, I wanted Bentley to stop with the barking. I turned and waved to the guy who yelled and continued on my way down the sidewalk. A few seconds later, the guy is yelling again and heading towards me, asking for help in very broken English. I notice he has a cell phone and a calling card. Bentley calms down and the guy moves a little closer to us and holds up the phone and the card:

"sorry...you can help me....Bosnia...phone - you understand yes?"

I think I understand - he wants some help with the calling card. At this point my dog is relatively calm & walks up to the guy sniffing, which is what dogs do. This suddenly freaks Bosnian Dude out - from the looks of things, almost as much as my dog sinking his chops into the dude's thigh would, because he yells and jumps back - as if the dog appeared out of nowhere to scare the B-Jeezus outta him. This starts another barking episode with my dog, and since it's after 11:00 PM, I want this to stop. I do my best to calm my dog down while trying to figure out why this guy seems to need my help.

Now is a good time to say that my middle-aged eyes can't exactly see the numbers on Bosnian Dude's calling card in the combination of moonlight and floodlight. It's also a good time to say that we end up going through the whole barking fits-calm-sniff-Bosnian Dude freak out thing about 5 more times before I finally tell Bosnian Dude that I'm going to have to take my dog in and come back if I'm going to help him. Things are about to get strange - though not as strange as I suspect Bosnian Dude would like them to get.

I tell B.D. that I'll take my dog home & return to see if I can help him.

Bosnian Dude: yes, my friend...you come my apartment. Understand?

Me - thinking: not sure I do understand - I mean the fact that you have the phone card
                          and a phone makes me a little suspicious of you being clueless here...

Me - talking: Yes, let me take my dog home and I will try to help you

As I walk back to my apartment with my dog, I don't feel great about going to this guy's apartment to help him figure out a phone card. Really? Nonetheless, I feel oddly obligated to try and help this guy - yet I feel a bit uneasy. I call a friend and tell her that if she hasn't heard  from me in an hour to call the police and tell them the apartment and building number that I'm going to visit. As you might imagine, this sounds at least a little troubling to her. I tell her not to worry and that I'll explain later.

I knock on the guy's door and I hear:

Bosnian Dude: yes, yes...come

I open the door and walk into a sparsely furnished apartment. Small television set, small table with two chairs and the whole place smells like an ashtray. My eyes quickly try to scan the room for signs of any of the following: rope, shovels, knives, ball gags, hoods, more rope, guns, blood stains, pornography of any kind - any of these things would be cause for alarm and send me right back out the door, but I'm also willing to burst straight through his living room window if my life depends on it. My guess is that it's best not to let him think I'm looking for any of those causes for alarm and I'm praying my lousy poker face won't tip him off.

B.D. : sit my friend, eees beer for yoo, my friend...yoo drink, yes?

At this point he shoves a tall can of Budweiser at me & repeats the above statement in rapid succession. I don't care for Budweiser and I care even less for my location. What's even worse, I'm having trouble looking around the room to plan my emergency exit should he whip out a rope....uh, or worse. F***nuts! Am I really going to have to dive through his front window all Starsky & Hutch-like? Something tells me that's a lot harder than it looks on television. Before I can scan the room again - and note that this is something I'm doing at every chance I get, he shoves a pack of smokes, and ashtray and a lighter at me:

B.D. : Eeees smoke for yoo, my friend - yes?

Me - thinking: oh wow...way to put my mind at ease...buddy, a tall, perhaps ruffied Bud and some smokes. I guess that makes you a gracious host, but truthfully I'm getting more and more creeped out by the second. No really - I am.

Me - talking : No thanks - I don't smoke...

I make my first attempt to address his phone difficulties, but before I can get anywhere, he interrupts me....

B.D. : yes, yes!...eees smoke for yoo, my friend!...smoke is for yoo!

Honestly, smoke is so not for me

Right before we go through the whole drink-eees-for-yoo/no thanks/smoke-eeees-for-yoo/no thanks thing again, as we would several times, B.D. points his thumb at his chest and says proudly:

B.D. : Feef-tee I YAM feef-TEE! yoo...are feef-TEE, no?

Me: yes...fifty one soon.

B.D. : oh...very sooory my friend

Me - thinking : Holy God am I ever afraid for my life right now - please God, please don't let this guy realize that I'm about to jump through his window, and please, please, please don't let him be able to outrun me. Now my mind goes into full-on comic book superhero self-talk....must...get phone...must jump....through...window.....must not.....let B.D. know I'm 'bout to leap through apartment window. Explain that to the manager....."oh the window? I had someone over the other night and was planning on tying them up and torturing them, but he must've seen it coming and he jumped out my window!"

All of this happened so quickly, but it seemed like it was slow motion. Finally I grab the calling card while quickly scanning the table top for weapons, ruffies, you know, stuff that would scare me. All I see are a bunch of numbers scribbled on pieces of paper. I take a bit of comfort in the fact that I don't see any bloodstains. B.D.'s cell phone is tiny - roughly the size of a pack of JuicyFruit gum. Barbie calls - says it's her cell phone and she wants it back. Ha.

B.D. tells me that his LED display is "not work - but phone, phone is work - my friend", and he does the whole "drink eees for yoo, yes, my friend/no thank you/smoke eees for yoo, yes, my friend/NO THANK YOU thing about six more times. I try to use his phone to call the access code on his calling card, all the while I'm wondering exactly why he needs help w/this - it can't be that someone just gave him both the phone and the card and he has no idea what to do with it. Several attempts and the phone just doesn't seem to be working, so I say as much - which adds a new response from B. D. :

B.D. : OH yes! My friend - phone eees work, yes! My friend - phone eees work - yoo understand Bosnia yes?

Me - thinking:  no, phone is not work, and I'm not sure I do understand Bosnia, but whatever dude - I just wanna help you with this phone dilemma and escape with my life...I mean, get home - alive.

At this point I've failed at no less than four attempts to dial the number on the calling card and suddenly, the guy takes the phone from my hand, turns it on and the keypad lights up as does its damaged LED screen. Really? You need my help for this? My ass you need my help buddy, but I don't want to trigger what I feel would surely be homicidal rage. I've got two options here - window, or help you with phone and then window. I'm hoping that helping you with your phone will buy me the time I need to burst through your window and flee to safety. Trust me folks, if you were in this walk-in ashtray of a lair, you'd have similar thoughts.

Two more attempts now that the phone is lit up. Five or six more of the drink, my friend...eees -drink for yoo/no thank you/smoke, my friend, smoke eeees for yooo/NO THANK YOU - and no, I'm not kidding. About four more of the phone-ees-work-my-friend thing too. Seriously. Finally I connect to the number and I hand him the phone and take my leave.

This whole incident happened back in October. A day or two after this all happened, the maintenance guys were installing blinds in my apartment and I told them about this. They laughed a bit, said I imitated B.D. perfectly and then proceeded to tell me that this guy is a bit strange. I would tend to agree. I never saw any more of the guy until two days ago - Sunday night, well actually it was the early hours of Monday morning - 12:15 AM to be exact. I hear a light knock on my door. The hell??? Most of my lights are out, not a television on, nor any music playing. I look through my blinds to see B.D. lightly knocking again, on my flippin' door at 12:15 in the AM. Bloody hell! As you might guess, this makes my dog bark. If I'm not mistaken, Bentley is saying "Creep! this guy's a creep - lemme bite him, can I huh, can I bite him? open the door and lemme at him!" - and the guy knocks again. Bentley ups his ante on the bark, I stand there struggling to quiet him down while wondering who the hell knocks on someone's door at such an hour - and I'm also thinking I'm going to hold Bentley by his collar, open the door and if the guy creeps me out, I'm going to turn him lose.

So I open the door, just when I think Bentley has made it all too clear as to how he feels about this intrusion, he ups his bark even more. B.D. waves this off. Again I'm wondering what this guy is doing on my doorstep at this hour. He holds up Barbie's phone again, and a handful of calling cards. Nice try, no dice pal. Really? Over five months and you still don't know how to use your own phone and the calling cards? Doubtful. Sorry folks, if this makes me seem unfriendly...then I guess I haven't done a very good job of illustrating just how odd this situation really was.