A trip to the DMV is never enjoyable, but it does make for some good people watching. And it always makes me wonder, where do these people come from?

I think the answer is 1983.

The DMV was pretty crowded yesterday, and as Michael and I waited for our turn, I couldn’t help but notice at least four 80’s hairstyles surrounding me. Including a banana clip. A big, white, plastic banana clip. Awesome. My inner eight year old was jealous of her curly poof. My fine hair never poofed out quite as nicely from my banana clip.

Michael and I were sitting on a bench, and eventually a man took the seat to my right, placing me in the middle. Before he even opened his mouth, I was hit by the overwhelming stench of booze. I scooted a little more towards Michael to avoid the smell, but that did not deter the man from speaking to me.

“Been here long?” he asked.

“Yup, almost 40 minutes.”

He started rambling something about a notary and his cousin’s lawyer. I nodded and turned back towards Michael.

“The other day there were a ton of deer in the road,” I heard him say next to me. I chose to ignore him, acting really interested in the documents in my lap and hoping that was enough to make him stop talking to me.

It was not.

He scooted a little towards me and said it again. “The other day there were a lot of deer in the road.”

I looked into his glazed over eyes, leaned a little further away from the shield of beer, and nodded. OK. You saw deer.

But then it took a turn for the weird.

He started rambling on about how cool it was that you can drink beer on the beach now without getting arrested because it was legal now. (It’s not.) I assumed he was telling me this because maybe that’s how he spent his morning.

Because ignoring him wasn’t working, I remarked that it was too bad it wasn’t that warm out yet.

And that’s when he pulled up his sleeve, shoved his arm in my direction and started stroking his peeling arm.

“I got burnt a few weeks ago and now my arm is peeling like crazy. Skin all over the place. SEE?

My gag reflex kicked into high gear and I swear he was about to start dusting his skin on me. EWWWWW. I turned to Michael with a mix of shock and horror and was about to shove him out of the bench and get as far away as possible from this man, when he started yelling across the room to a man he apparently tagged along with. He got up and stumbled out the door.

Phew.

And ew. I’m still remembering all that dry skin waiting to be dusted on me. Ew.

Just a nice stranger-wanted-to-put-their-skin-on-me story to start your weekend. It’s been a little quiet around these parts lately. What have you all be up to this week? I know, share your best creepy stranger story. It will be funny and something fun to read on a Friday. Happy weekend!

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