Another story involving coincidence…but nowhere near as weird as the previous one: When my sister was pregnant with her first child (we all already knowing that it would be a girl), I asked her if she and her husband had finally decided on a name. (I had saved my own suggestions – Yvette or Danielle – they seeming to be popular names at the time but kept those to myself.) “Yes”, she said, but playfully asked me to guess. I told her my two personal choices. Her eyes got big, her jaw dropped, then told me that she and hubby had decided on Danielle for her first name, and Yvette for her middle name and had told no one else.
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WHOA.
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Now you’re scaring meeeeeeeee.
Some years back, my dad (who – now retired – actually talked with his patients) told of one patient who claimed to see a ghost. The story goes like this: The patient (call her “Ma”) and her daughter were sitting together in their living room watching TV. From where they were sitting, they could both see down a common hallway that accessed the living room and a couple of bedrooms. (The original floorplans of Brownstones and their types can be very odd.) At some point, Ma and daughter both observed an elderly woman walk from one of the bedrooms then through the hallway wall opposite the bedroom door. My dad asked them what they did next. “Nothing.” Except for acknowledging that both saw what they saw, they just sat there waiting for Pa to come home. They were frozen with fear.
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Yet again, WHOA.
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I only make fun of Cleveland when its online inhabitants dare to make fun of Detroit. I have a great, horrid, true Cleveland story that invariably makes them all decide to
I’ve lived in Detroit most of my life, and have seen some pretty big rats here. The biggest one I’ve ever seen, however, was in Cleveland.
I was in The Flats during Undercurrents, a 3-day music fest showcasing unsigned bands at various bar/pub/club-filled locations each night. My roomies at the time (probably '96 or so) included four chaps who were members of 4 different bands, one of their GFs, and my then-BF. One of those bands, Fathers of the Id,* had sent in a demo, and was invited to perform.
My BF and I decided to have a smoke and a walk at one point after The Fathers’ set, and we wandered out into a parking lot.
We walked past a couple dumpsters, and a rat as big as a good-sized opossum took a casual jog between them.
My BF jumped, and screamed like a little girl. I was already pointing and laughing like hell at the rat, then pointed at my BF and laughed at his reaction. I’m honestly surprised he didn’t hide behind me.
I laughed so hard and for so long, my stomach ached.
Oh, and, yes, I do know the difference between rats and opossums. I got a good, long look at that sucker as it sauntered along [LOL], and it was indeed A Rat.
*IKR?! They were as great as their name: the singer/guitarist sounds like a cross between James Brown and Aretha, the bassist has A Golden Thumb, and the drummer has Perfect Time. Psychedelic, funky, weird, bluesy, trippy AF, and lotsa fun.
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