You know how when you think about people you always picture them a certain way? Be it a hoodie they always wear, the haircut they’ve had forever, etc. etc. I always picture my old landlady with an eye patch on. I actually almost wrote iPatch; this is a full disclosure blog.
Her name was Nancy and she was a very special lady. Her office was across from the liquor store between the door and the elevator, so everyone in the building had to pass her on their way in. She loved small talk, but she was very awful at it and it was awkward for everyone. It was always things like “there is a parking spot available if you need one, I am only telling you this because you’re my favorite”, “tell your roommate I’m not raising the laundry free because she’s my favorite” and random outbursts against illegals.
Her sidekick/only co-worker was this woman named Angelica who had really long nails, like long to the point where they were starting to curl over. Angelica would always have them painted with some pretty fabulous rhinestones. Basically, the two of them together were the best because they clearly didn’t like each other (but I guess it’s also possible that Angelica was also Nancy’s favorite). I would describe them as like the Odd Couple, but this is 2K12 so I am going to say that they were like Jimmy Fallon and Queen Latifah in Taxi. That comparison is definitely not entirely accurate, I’ve just been thinking about that movie a lot, and bringing it up to make sure that it actually exists. “Hey, remember that buddy comedy with Queen Latifah and Jimmy Fallon? I don’t understand why that happened.”
Anyways, Nancy, eyepatch, liquor store, apartment. I came home after calculus one day at 10 AM, opened the door to the apartment building, felt the feeling of dread of having to conversate with Nancy, passed her office door and actually made an audible sigh of relief. It should also be noted that I really hate small talk, because it’s just so shallow, formulaic and inconsequential. I have strong opinions about things. So, I was super stoked that I had made it home free and that I could just go back to my apartment and pass out for a few hours. I turned the corner to the stairs and there stood Nancy at the mailboxes, a 60-something lady wearing leggings as pants, one of those 90s gray T-shirts with cats on it and an eye patch.
She proceeded to have an entire conversation with me without ever mentioning why she was wearing an eye patch. I could not tell you a single thing she said because I was so fixated on it. Because not only was she wearing an eye patch, but she was wearing an XXL eye patch and she was wearing it crooked. I just can’t overlook things like that. At least with small talk it’s OK to stare at someone’s face, I think, so I was probably in the clear. So now whenever I think about Nancy, I think about her in that moment, with her eye patch on.
One of my really good friends, and yes, favorite people, lives in that building now. Every time I hang out with him, which is always at Bob’s Big Boy in Burbank and always after midnight, I go out of my way to ask about Nancy. Two weeks ago I got a text from my friend saying Nancy was leaving, and all I have to say is that it’s the end of an era, Glen Building.