Aren’t you tired of swiping in the hopes of running into a specific someone you have an existing, lingering curiosity about? Here’s your chance to be brave—to take the active route instead of the passive one. Let’s connect again.
Rubber Ducks at Muses
You helped me get some rubber duck beads and got me a rubber duck for my Jeep at Muses. And when you asked if you could give me your number, my idiot self said, “I don’t think I’d use it.” What I meant to say is, “I’m married, so I don’t think I’d use it.” I felt terrible for rejecting you without reason. You were awesome and very sweet! Keep it up!
Outside Big Daddy’s
N, you first caught my eye outside Big Daddy’s on Mardi Gras day. It happened again when we were introduced in the hot tub at Railyard (I was in red). Neither time could I really chat. Are there vibes? Let me take you out to find out.
Drag ´Em ‘N’ Tha River
To the black Ford 150 truck that was blasting UNLV’s “Drag ´Em ‘N’ Tha River” on Behrman Highway today, I just want to say thank you. It made me feel like I was back in New Orleans 30 years ago.
Don’t Get Stung
On Lundi Gras, I was with my boyfriend who was dressed as a bee, sitting on a bench in Washington Square Park before the Red Beans parade. You walked by with your two kids and said to them, “OK, everyone be careful, don’t get stung, there’s a bee over there.” You did this casually and without breaking mom character. I don’t think the kids noticed but we did and we had a great laugh. I also told my sister, a mom of two, and she laughed harder than I’ve heard in a while, which is nice because she might be about to lose her government contract job for the VA. Anyway, I wished I had run up to say, let’s be friends!
Monsters in the Bywater
To the parade full of monsters that passed me in the Bywater, I hope we connect again. I’ll admit I low-key stalked you and tried to nonchalantly place myself in your path. But I was not cool enough to find the secret parade route. Feeling rejected, I joined a friend for drinks and, as we walked toward a bar, you surprised us by rushing around a corner and enveloping us. You had us (literally) backed against a fence with the force of your numbers. Trapped, we felt the embrace of your tentacles and tickle of your antennae. We watched you air-hump oncoming traffic. As quickly as you wrapped around us, you pushed past to continue your mysterious route. You’re hard to get, fuzzy and slithery, and so entrancing. I hope you stampede us into a fence again.
Bagpipes Near Bayou St. John
Me: Being ordinary, going about my day and pumping gas. You: Perched on the bridge trestle on Bayou St. John, playing the bagpipe and reminding us all that life is precious, sad and beautiful. Thank you!
Contortion at ‘tit Rex
It was ‘tit Rex, and I walked into Flora to escape from the miniature mayhem outside. You stood in line in front of me wearing a black backpack with red, blue and yellow stripes. I watched you reach up to grab a zine from the top of the drink fridge before knocking the entire pile onto the floor. You contorted your body around the fridge and lifted your leg in the air to retrieve all the papers, and said to me you “only meant to grab one” (as if that wasn’t obvious). I came up with a whole plan to ask you for your number while we waited for our coffee orders, but when you got to the cash register you quickly ordered a muffin and rushed back outside into the crowd.
Submit your own close encounter to closeencounters@antigravitymagazine.com or through our new ANONYMOUS Google form. All email addresses will remain confidential. Don’t be a creep.
illustrations by Maegen Guidroz
