Alas, both Claridges and God are not what they used to be; not seeing the
customer being just one of their foibles.
GB
- Original Message -
From: Michael Foster [EMAIL PROTECTED]
To: vortex-l@eskimo.com
Sent: Monday, April 11, 2005 6:46 AM
Subject: The Invisible Man
Ok, Vorts... Since this list has disintegrated into an over the back
fence discussion group concerning theology and things that go
bump in the night, here's one you might find interesting. I often
become the Invisible Man. No, really.
When Bill posted that bit about the disappearing coffee stir stick, I
had to chuckle. That sort of thing happens to me so frequently that I
hardly notice it. It happens to others in my presence. Things
disappear for months or years anywhere within arms length of me.
My employes just make sure there are lots of whatever I need
around just so when something necessary disappears for a while,
there's another one to use. I have no control over this and really,
it pretty embarrassing.
That's just a minor aspect of what I have come to call the
Invisible Man Syndrome. It's become worse over the last 30 years
or so. I have no control over it, and it's very real. You older Vorts
might remember The Shadow, an old radio program where Orson
Welles announced, The Shadow knows, the Shadow who has the
power to cloud men's minds so that they cannot see him. That's me,
except for inconvenience of not being able to make it happen when
I want.
It started with fairly minor episodes in restaurants with incidents
that probably happen to everyone to one extent or another. A
waiter would take everyone's order at the table but mine. Or a
waiter would take my order as well, but only deliver everone else's.
My family and friends would just usually say that I wasn't being
assertive enough or some such.
Then, it began to get worse, but still minor restaurant stuff.
A waiter would deliver everone else's order, return with my order,
offer it to everyone else at the table and then leave. I would then have
to chase the waiter down.
Then things began to get dangerous. People began to run into me on
the street. They would just walk right into me as though they couldn't see
me. In fact, they couldn't see me. The range of responses to this was
fairly amusing. Usually just, Sorry, I didn't see you. But sometimes
I
would get, Where the hell did you come from? One time I was
knocked down while standing on the sidewalk talking to a business
associate and then stepped on and tripped over by others who
apparently couldn't see me, but then looked around wondering what
the obstruction was.
After that, I had several incidents in parking lots where I was nearly
run down by drivers who were clearly looking right at me, but
just couldn't see me. I was actually struck one time, but fortunately
was not injured seriously, ending up on the hood of the car right
on the windshield in front of the driver. Finally, she saw me, got out
of her car and simply said, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you.
This went on for years, with everyone I know continuing to say that
it's just my imagination, I should assert myself more, it couldn't
really be true, it's just bad luck, it's just a coincidence, etc., etc.,
etc.
Incidentally, these invisiblilty episodes happen irregularly, for no
apparent reason. I can usually tell when one is coming on, when
minor incidents occur with increasing frequency.
Finally, one invisibility episode happened with numerous witnesses
and was so dramatic that no one could explain it away. I was
staying at Claridges in London with my family. Claridges is renown
for its service, but I could tell a major episode was coming on when
I could get no service in any of the restaurants there. I won't bore
you with the details.
My family and I went to Waterloo Station from the hotel to take the
Chunnel back to Paris. For those not familiar with the setup there,
when you are going to take the Chunnel, you have to go through
security similar to getting onto an airplane, or at least you did at
that time.
Not thinking, I walked through the metal detector without emptying
my pockets. Not a beep, not a blip. I had at least a pound of Euro
coins and various British coins in one pocket. In another pocket was
a camera that is basically a metal brick. Just behind me was my
mother-in-law, who set off the metal detector with her wedding ring
and a small bracelet. I walked on, looking back at my family, all of
whom were being disassembled by the security personnel.
I walked back to other side of the metal detectors because I could
see this was going to take a while. I walked through again out of
curiosity. Nothing. So I walked on ahead of everyone else past the
passport control booth, which is basically a glass booth with an
official inside, flanked by two military types with machine guns.
I walked by the booth not thinking about it. I stopped
