The Things I Do For Loooooove...

In which we shall see: loitering, iPhones, theatre-types hanging out of windows, a dare (couched as a request), two boys and a park bench, Paris, a bad hair cut, and a call to Security. In other words: a recipe for trouble.

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I'm so excited to have enough of a story to use this format again! (Mal, Sara - see?!? I don't even have to TRY. This stuff just FINDS ME.)

So, after finishing a morning rehearsal for a devised production of Antigone I'm helping on, I left the school and stopped to chat with a friend about another project. My phone rings - I miss the call, and it rings again. Picking up, I find a course-mate on the line and he tells me to look up, as he's calling from a room (and out a window) on the third floor (second if you're British) of the building. He asks:
   "Do you see those two guys sitting on the bench over there?" I crane my head. "Could you go over and be really obnoxious to them?"
   "..."
   "I'm sorry, what?" I say.
   "They're actors and they're wearing a microphone, and I want you to go over and strike up a conversation. Go bug them."
   At this point, most normal people would have said "No" or faked cellular interference, hung up, and run away. I have a little problem, though - when someone dares me to do something my brain tends to shut down and I go for it without really looking into other options (like, "No"). ((Fortunately, I don't have friends that will dare me to do really dangerous or illegal kinds of things)) (((And no, it doesn't work over email. It's all tone-of-voice))).  This wasn't quite a dare, but it was a very confident I -bet-she'll-do-it request, so I answered, stalling, "Anything in particular this conversation should be about?" (*retrospective sigh*)
   "No, you just fancy them or something - go on, and don't leave them alone!"
   So I went.

In the little 'square' in front of my school is a triangle of grass and a few trees, with a couple of benches along the sidewalks (er, footpaths). One of the benches was occupied by two nicely-dressed guys having what looked to be an animated conversation. I headed towards the triangle like I was making for an unoccupied bench, but then did a little double-take as if I had just noticed them and casually headed towards them instead. I ignored their conversation and dumped my backpack on the end of the bench, and then began frantically rummaging for my phone. Finding it, I pretended to make a call, and when the 'callee' didn't pick up soon enough (mainly because I hung up before putting the phone to my ear) I turned to the guys and asked if they knew the area well. Were they acting students, by any chance? I could tell because they were "soooo good-looking."
   About this time I noticed that they were really, really cute.
   They were polite, and tried to be accommodating - Amazing Blue-Green Eyes wondered if he could help, and Brown Curly-Hair looked concerned. I told them I was trying to get a hold of someone in a rehearsal, and did they have access to the school, by any chance? (I have no idea where this started coming from. Open your mouth, the words fall out.) They asked if I was a student, and I said yes, but I'd forgotten my ID - ABGE started to direct me to the reception desk, since they could buzz me in. I went for it.
   "No - well, you see," I 'acted' flustered (soooo cute), "there's this guy." ABGE looked intrigued, BCH looked vaguely suspicious. "I just really need to get in touch with him, and I was hoping one of you could help me, because... I can't really go through reception."
   "But - you're a student," said BCH. "You're wearing the jacket." (I had on my Central hoodie.)
   "Right - but no, I'm not actually a student. I'm just wearing it, you know, so they'll let me in." I think ABGE was starting to enjoy himself.
   "Well, what's his name? Maybe we know him." Name? Crap.
   "Uh - Mike. Hammersmith."
   "So you're not a student and you don't really know this guy - what, you're his stalker?" BCH called it.
   ('Chagrined' face) "Oh, now, 'stalker' is such a harsh word."

There followed a conversation about how I knew Mike and I were meant to be together (my name was 'Sally', by the way) and it was just awful because I expected people at a theatre school to better understand passion and true love, even if you've only spoken to someone once or twice. That's why I couldn't go to Reception - they'd already thrown me out once before for trying to get into the school ("...even though I've come all this way!"). They asked where I'd come from, and I told them the States, of course, by way of Paris... where I had gone when I'd been chasing some other guy. Oops. By now, I'm pretty sure ABGE knew something was up, since he started taking my side and preaching to BCH about love-at-first-sight. (I could see the microphone wire attached to his collar and really had to concentrate to keep my eyes away from it.) Finally, my phone rang and, answering, I gushed "I gave him my number! I'm sure it's him!" - my course-mate told me that Mike couldn't come to the phone, but I could wrap it up and send the actors in.
   Laughing, I told the two guys I had accosted that they were now free to go back in to rehearsal, and they busted up. We hugged, exchanged real names, I mentioned that the people at the Reception desk actually really liked me, and I headed home for lunch.

And, apropos of nothing, it started to hail.

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Seriously, how do these things happen to me? I'm not embarrassed about it particularly, but every few minutes I get a wave of "Did I really just DO that? OY." Also, about halfway through the conversation, while staring into ABGE's gorgeous eyes and waxing eloquent over how "sometimes you meet someone's eyes and you just KNOW you've known them before" it occurred to me that I had trimmed my own bangs (er, fringe) the other day, and they were really just a little too short to be attractive. (Two weeks, they'll be fine.) Hot guy there, bad haircut here, people listening in on a wire three floors away... Welcome to my life!