Faux Pas or How I put my Foot in my Mouth and other tales

I have, what I like to put across as, a 'sweeping attitude' towards all non-me things. By 'non-me' I mean... like, the World that is Out There. That half-stranger whom I meet up with occasionally (when I have the time to get out of my head) and blink and say 'Hello World!'.

Yeah, that guy.

Needless to say, I often, quite often, run into, what can be mildly put as 'embarrassing situations'. Let me elucidate.

Act 1: 

Scene: One sunny morning in our high school. Me and Sam, all of sweet-sixteen, standing in the assembly line.

Sam (leaning slightly to me, all pins and needles and talking under her breath while trying to act normal otherwise): “Pu, don't turn your head, but THAT GUY is in the line behind us” (X being that uber-cool senior dude we both had a 'one look and we'll faint' kind of massive crush on).

Me (in my usual loud voice): “Who? Jore bol na!” (can't you be a little louder, you ass?)

Sam (with gritted teeth and still muttering under her breath): “THAT GUY! THAT GUY! I can't speak louder. He's standing RIGHT behind us”.  

Me: (quite confused and absolutely 'no-comprende'): “Huh? Who? What?” (at the same time promptly turning my head to see the guy's half-amused and half-'I-am-SO-not -interested-in-whatever-effect-I-am-producing' face and jumping out of my skin). 

Me: (turning back again in lightning-fast speed): “why didn't you tell me so before, you idiot??”

(Sam, only managing an 'if looks could kill' stare).


Act 2:

Scene: A busy Kolkata street in a busy, summer afternoon in the present time.

Me (in frantic hurry to get a taxi and spotting a guy standing leaning onto a cab, talking in his phone): “Cholun bhai, Minto Park..” ('Yo! 'Bro... to Minto Park please') 

The Man (placing his surprised eyes on my anxious, profusely sweating face): “Sure didi, while I'd love to go anywhere you want to, let me tell you at the outset that I'm not the taxi driver”.

(And then the zombies ate my brains!)

People close to me tell me that this kind of dysfunctional behavior also has to do with the fact that I choose to be selectively vision and hearing-impaired, but don't listen to them. I like to think that I always like to focus on the Bigger Picture, like Planning my Next Vacation to Machu Picchu or 10 Great Things I Will Do When I Finally Grow Up... you get the idea!

Also, this disorder really runs into my family. Once, my ful pishimoni, (read 'aunt', for those of you who are not-so-bong) a teacher, was coming back from her school in a rickshaw when she spotted a boy standing at the nearby bus stop. While she was quite distracted by the general going-ons in the road, she absent-mindedly thought, “Wow, the boy looks kind of familiar..” (“Baba! chheleta ke ki chena chena lagchhe!”) and then started paying attention to the more interesting-looking events around her. After a minute or so she heard somebody crying out “Ma.. Ma..!” and noticed that the same boy waving at her with a slightly confused expression on his face. That was Raja Dada, her then-teenage son!

Or, I can tell you about my chhoto pishemoshai (my uncle, by marriage) who jauntily introduced himself at a party as 'Hi..I am Mrs. X and here is Mr. X, my better half' (this time pointing to my aunt, chhoto phishimoni). 

The crux of the matter is, whether by some genetic blip or not, this kind of sh*t happens to me, a lot.

Maybe next time I'll tell you the story when I went for a job interview with my son's diaper bag.

Man, that will be good. 

Later gator.