a weird experience

It was a few days ago, sometime in the afternoon. The dog started barking, which is usually an indication that the mailman or the UPS truck has arrived. This time it was different. The dog was going crazy, barking loud and often. He even ran down the stairs to stand against the door and try and spook whoever was on the other side. I went to the door, and walked outside, because it’s the only way to keep the dog from slipping through the crack and trying to get whoever is there.

As I walked through the doorway I noticed the old maroon minivan parked on the street in front of our house. An older gentleman of Indian origin was standing there, a step away from me. He spoke.

“I’m here to pick up Ate-E”

Puzzled, my response was, “I’m sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong house.”

Confusion came over his face as well, as he replied, “No. Right house. Ate-E”

At this the confusion on my face must have indicated he was not getting through to me, he then pointed to a scrap piece of paper the size of a post-it note, which had the name Katie scribbled at the top in pencil. It clicked in my mind, this guy was looking for Katie, not Ate-E.

“Oh! Katie. You’re looking for Katie!”

“Yes, Katie. I’m here to pick up Katie.”

“Yeah, there’s no Katie at this house. I think you have the wrong address, this is 5511. Which address are you looking for?”

He looked down and found the number, then replied, “No. This is house, grey shudders, grey house, 5551. I drop her off here.”

Just for a minute put yourself in his shoes. Here you are in another country, where the natives don’t understand you clearly. You’ve dropped off your daughter or granddaughter at someone’s house. You come back to pick her up and one of the natives, a man, in his 20s tells you that you have the wrong house. He acts like he doesn’t understand you, has no recollection of your special little one. There is a dog barking in the background. You’re trying to figure out what you’re going to do. Is this guy going to give her back? Is this the day she’ll be lost forever?

I know he’s confused, and he shows me the paper to prove he has the right house. I’m trying to keep conversation with him while I read. It appears he is on the right street, just not the right house. He’s looking for 5551 not 5511. Now I don’t know which way 5551 will be on the street, because honestly I never look at the numbers to know. I say to the man, “Ah…. well… let’s ask the neighbor, Paul. He might be able to help us.” I walk with the man, towards my neighbor. “Paul. Do you know who lives at 5551 or where their house is?” He seems less than interested and mumbles that the houses next to his are out of order. This only adds to my confusion as I head up the street with the old man following me, close. I have to commend him on his patience.

As I walk up the hill, I realize that we are indeed increasing in number, soon we should find 5551. I talk to him explaining what we are doing. “We’re looking for 5551, it should be up here somewhere….”

Then it happens. “This is the house! This is the house I dropped her off at! Grey shudders, grey house!” I looked, sure enough, 5551. I could see the tension lift from his face. “Thank you, thank you!” I handed him his scrap of paper, and then headed down the hill towards my house. I turned to see him following me. He spoke again, “I am going to go get my car, and drive it back up the hill.”

I nod and reply, “My name is Ben.”

“My name is Rev. What is your name again?”

“I’m Ben.” We then commence into small talk briefly. He thanks me again, hops into his maroon minivan and drives away.

It was a weird experience.