Don't Talk To Crazies

We went to Silver Dollar City yesterday, and I'm noticing an alarming pattern.

I'm going to give you some advice. Avoid loitering around the benches outside of "Fire in the Hole." This is where the crazies hang out. And if you choose to sit here and wait for the rest of your party to exit the ride, you will be harrassed. You just will be.

Two years ago, my mug was stolen by a creepy, creep. Do you remember? And as I waited on an adjacent bench yesterday, I was irritated by a whole new batch of crazy. Read on.

Emma and I picked out a shady spot to snack, rest, and wait. A woman sat down beside us and appeared to admire Emma innocently enough. And then she started up a crazy conversation.

Crazy woman: "How old is she?"

Me: "18 months."

Crazy woman: "So when was she born?"

Me: "She's a November girl."

Crazy woman: "November what?"

Me: "Around Thanksgiving. She's my Thanksgiving baby."

Crazy woman: "Really?!"

Me: "Yes."

Crazy woman: "Well, you didn't say what day."

Me: No response but my brain is chatting to itself wildly. I'm internally scanning down all of my collected email forwards about scam artists. Hmmm... is there any harm to telling a stranger what day your child was born if they know nothing else? I decide there's probably no harm, but I still don't want to tell her. Dang, crazy woman, it's none of your business when her birthday is. Why aren't you asking her name or some other normal question? Oh, that's right, it's because you're crazy. Leave me alone now, please.

Crazy woman (who now has her iphone out): "Well, if she was born on November 22 of 2007 that would be MY birthday."

Me: "She wasn't. It was just around Thanksgiving." (I don't know why it never occurred to me to just lie instead of dancing around it like this.)

Crazy woman: "Oh! Well, sharing my birthday is such a rarity. That would've been rare."

Me: uncomfortable laugh

Crazy woman: "So when then? You didn't say the exact day."

Me: "What?"

Crazy woman: "When was your baby born?"

Me: no response but, again, this translates into a flurry of Whitney brain chatter. WHY is this woman so obsessed about my kid's birthday? Could I get away with saying, "Ohhh, I don't know. I can't remember exactly." NO! STUPID WHITNEY. YOU CAN'T SAY THAT. YOU WOULD KNOW YOUR CHILD'S BIRTHDAY. ugh... CW, just LEAVE me alone.

Again, there is no contemplation of a simple lie... an obvious choice, Whitney. Whitney, who can't think straight in the midst of crazy.

Crazy woman: "November what?"

Me: "November 30th."

Crazy woman: "November 30th! Really?"

Me: "Yeah."

Crazy woman: "Noveeeember thiiiirtieth."

Me: "Yes."

Jim and Jack return at this point. THANK GOODNESS. If this birthday inquisition had gone on much longer, I think I would've broken out into hives.

I tell the story to Jim.

Jim: "Why didn't you just lie?"

Me: sigh

The Flooded Mine is another place where the crazies hang out.