reliving the moment: the chinatown creepster

This story is so funny that I would like to reblog it here. It is hilarious now because I suspect that the creepy old man cannot read or access the internet. If he could... Well, let's say that I would never publish the story in fear that he would track us down and eviscerate our intestines. Deb's words, not mine.

Last week, Deb and I went to Chinatown.

Deb has a passionate interest in Asian cakes and pastries. I visit Chinatown bakeries less often, but tend to genuinely obsess over anything containing flour. We usually wait until six o'clock, after which we could buy three (very large) pastries for just one dollar. I would buy a dollar or two worth "for my mom" and then devour everything once I got home. Deb always bought about five dollars worth of bread upon her dad's request. Consisting mostly of egg, butter, and sugar, they were more cake than bread. But then again, Deb was always "buying bread" for her family: a good enough excuse to stay out past six. 

This time, we went straight to Mayflower Bakery after school. We just couldn't wait until six o'clock. With less than one dollar, I couldn't afford real food. We decided to get pastries, which would fill us up as well as any rice or noodle dishes would. As Deb and I walked into Mayflower, we instantly glued our eyes to the vast variety of pastries, ignoring the lingering sense of a small figure looming behind us. 

There were pineapple buns, which were larger than a McDonald's Big Mac, but mainly consisted of flour and eggs and had little to do with pineapples. They cost only sixty cents and satisfied both my sweet tooth and bread craving at the same time. There were egg tarts, coconut tarts, butter buns, and many other little sweeties. I really didn't want to have to choose. I looked at Deb and she seemed to be contemplating too.

Behind her stood an elderly man, homeless looking. He had this long, gray beard and eyes that seemed to pop out of their sockets. He was short with a hunch back and tattered, browning clothing. He reminded me of a Disney character: that old man Jafar pretended to be when locked in the cellar with Alladin. I didn't look at him much because the way his eyes looked was very, very scary. He didn't seem sane and that made me sad. (I avoid things that make me think unhappy thoughts.) He just stood there, near the outer door of the bakery. He seemed to be looking really hard in our direction but didn't go through the doorway. He was probably poor and looking.

I ignored.

I decided to go for the pineapple bun. I ordered and handed over my sixty cents to the girl who only spoke money and said "and?" really loudly. As I grabbed my brown paper bag, I heard a little squeak from Deb. From my peripheral vision, I saw the creepy old man retreat towards the outer door. Deb looked at me, eyes wide in shock. She grabbed the hair tie that had earlier held her curly dark hair in a high ponytail. Her hair was down and her red and blue hair tie was on her hand.

The old man had grabbed her hair tie and pulled it. He now stood outside the bakery, clearly visible through the glass mirrors. Deb made a quick order of three pastries and the two of us retreated to the deeper, more secure area of the bakery: a small table behind the refrigerator.

It was strange and disturbing, but life went on. He was probably just attracted to the red of her hair tie, Deb would explain. I told her that he was probably following her. She dismissed the idea and I amused myself with the thought. It was nothing, she tried to convince me. She was trying to convince herself more. We talked about unimportant things and ate our food for about fifteen minutes.

Then Deb looked at me, wide-eyed and still. He's back, she said, looking to my right. I turned and saw the old man, still creepy and staring, with his newly acquired cup of coffee. He stared at us.

We ignored him. It would be okay. There were two loud Chinese ladies between our tables. They had a little boy, about three or four years old. He was pale and dressed in a silky Chinese outfit. He had large ears and a nose like that of a guinea pig. He looked like a little monkey. Deb told me that the old man was looking at the little boy now. I told her no, but she wouldn't accept it. She was only kidding herself.

Before leaving, one of the ladies came up to me. She pointed to the old creep and said something in Chinese. I smiled and gave her my most confused look. She kept on talking and I kept on smiling. She probably said something about how he was watching us. I had an urge to tell her that I did not speak her language, but I figured she wouldn't understand anyway. Rather, I liked the idea of her thinking that I understood. I always like to understand, even if I don't. And if I had told her the truth, it would shatter something in her.

I felt really insecure after the ladies left with the monkey boy. The old man was still there and still staring. He did this weird thing where he would pretend his hand were a telescope. Deb and I couldn't stand it any longer. We got up and were ready to escape. The old man beat us to it. He got up and left in a swift motion. Since he was gone, Deb and I sat back down.

We talked for a few minutes more about how odd that had been. Deb froze again and I knew. He was back. We got up again. He got up and left. We decided to leave anyway.

He stood outside the bakery. We went out and inconspicuously went the other direction, power walking. She asked me if he was following us. I looked back and surely he was.

We ran.

We dived straight into Shanghai Bazaar, a high class tourist shop. I expected security to keep the old man out. It didn't seem likely that anyone would dare follow someone in. Deb and I ran to the second floor. There was a large glass window up there that we could use to check on the old man. I hid behind a mannequin and peaked out the window. The creep was across the street, looking straight into the store. Deb and I didn't know what to do. Perhaps we were paranoid, but this man freaked us out! We observed him for several more minutes. I had an urge to take a picture, but didn't have the nerve.

Slowly, he crossed the street towards our side. Deb and I jumped into each other! We panicked, walking back and forth around the store. We tried to call up "manly" people to help us feel safe, but they weren't too useful. The manliest people Deb knew were gay and away. No one I wanted to call was available.

To my disbelief, they allowed the man into the shop. He walked around the first floor looking for us like a zombie searching for fresh flesh. Deb told a saleslady there about our little stalker. She looked at us like we were dumb and pointed to some DVDs. Look through them, she said, and he would go away soon. We tried that for about five seconds and started frantically running around the book shelves area, half hiding and half looking out for our follower. It wasn't long until the creep made it to the second floor. He did the weird scoping motion with his wrinkly hand again, still looking for us.

By now, all the store associates were looking at us strangely. They smiled, probably amused by our cute little game. I never really liked the way Chinatown businesses were ran. Teens were never taken seriously. Even if we bled, we never bled seriously like the adults did.

Desperate, Deb and I waited until the old man was on the other side of the store, then we ran towards the stairs. We ran down the stairs, out of the store, and for several more blocks. Everyone stared at the two girls running crazily down the Chinatown streets. The creep was about sixty-years-old and wouldn't be able to catch up. The streets were crowded and full of people. We knew that, yet we kept running. When we stopped, we looked back and ran again.

After about three blocks, Deb and I separated, promising to call each other once we were safer. I say safer because at the time, I didn't think I could ever feel just plain safe again.

The true date of the event accounted is January 7, 2008. It has been over a year already. Time sure flies... and I miss those excruciating Chinatown days.  Here is part 2, updated by Debbie. This happened eight days following the first event. We are fools indeed.

So Kathy and I went back to Chinatown yesterday, mostly because I was all, "Let's get cheap, filling pastries. He's probably not there!" and so we went and had yummy buns.

Then I began craving soup, so we were going to go to that other cheap place in Chinatown, and we left the bakery, and we were walking and all of a sudden (I can't remember this part, I was too busy freaking out) Kathy says "Run!" or grabs my arm or something, and we turn around and start running back up the street.

Because Creepy Old Man was milling around on the sidewalk.

I didn't see him, which made the whole thing even creepier-- he was there and I could have walked right into him.

We (or maybe it was just me) were really, really scared, because this guy was insane! Who may or may not remember us. Maybe all he wants is to touch our hair, but maybe then he wants to eviscerate our intestines.