Have You Ever Seen Pulp Fiction?

Extraordinary things just happen to me. I suppose they happen to all of us. They happen sometimes, not very often, but they happen regularly enough to be noticed.

This is one of the reasons I can’t do any serious long-term planning. It never works for me. I do love to imagine what the future might be like for me. I love to set goals and plan for things. I almost always have an idea in my head about what my life may be like in five years, or three years, or ten years. I set goals, determine probabilities, work around potential obstacles, and predict the most likely situation for me given current events and other predictable factors. I go as far as to imagine certain future scenarios. I have conversations in my mind with my grown children, friends, and siblings. I really like to plan, predict, and imagine what my life will be life a few years down the road. I am sure we all do this to a certain extent.

Unfortunately it never works. Well it mostly never works. Recently, when my oldest son graduated from high school, I did have an actual experience that was eerily similar to one I had imagined and predicted many, many years ago. I was also able to say something to his mother that day, that I had imagined saying to her for many years. The fact that I said it in a text message instead of in person did not diminish the experience (at least for me, she may not love text messages as much as I do). It turns out I didn’t accurately predict the popularity of text messages eighteen years ago, when I was a scared-to-death, punk-ass kid. I don’t know what I was thinking.

But something always happens. Fucking life does its thing. The unknown and unpredictable factors and forces go to work, and before long, something extraordinary and unexpected happens, and things begin to change.

Of course unexpected events aren’t always life-changing experiences. Sometimes they are just plain amusing. Sometimes, if like me you constantly process and evaluate everything around you, when something both unexpected and innocuous occurs, it can be just hilarious. And sometimes you have to write about it.

Have you ever found yourself in a specific situation, where you had opportunity for metaphysical sojourn, and you were able to just step back from yourself and consider the very moment? This happens to me all the time. I make a point of it. Sometimes I find myself some place inconceivable, doing something I never imagined, maybe with someone with whom I never imagined I would ever be doing something inconceivable. I like to step out of context for a moment, ignoring events that may have led to such a moment, and just appreciate the situation. I love to say to myself “I never would have imagined that I would be here right now doing this.” Sometimes it is hilarious, sometimes it is disturbing, but it is always amusing.

These are the things that keep life interesting. And oddly enough, these are exactly the things I was thinking about that night in line at the gas station mini-mart, in a seedy part of town, across the street from my favorite breakfast joint.

Marcus and I were out for something. My memory is a little hazy. I was either buying beer, or buying ice for beer, or buying something else entirely. We may have been coming from, or going to the strip club nearby. Or we may have just stopped by that gas station on our way to someplace else entirely, because it is convenient from the freeway. In any case, if I was buying beer, it must not have been the first beer of the evening for me. It was a Saturday night, and the line was long. Marcus was nearby, maybe in the car, but not immediately with me. All the same, I am calling him a witness.

The point is, I am not sure how I got there, or what I was doing. But there I was.

I was second from the counter. I was waiting patiently while my mind wandered around abstract notions previously described in this essay, when I noticed something strange. The man in front of me had turned around and was looking at me as he leaned against the counter waiting for something. I noticed this because I am a fairly inconspicuous guy in a crowd and I don’t normally attract a pile of attention. Furthermore he was looking me up and down and appeared to be licking his lips, which actually never happens. This was new for me, and I was not sure how to react.

Additionally, to risk the use of a stereotype, this guy looked a little tough. He was taller than me. This isn’t hard to do because I am not a very tall guy. He was maybe six feet. He was wearing a pale blue tracksuit with a plain white t-shirt underneath, on top of which lay a large gold chain with a medallion that appeared to be the Mexican flag. His hat was white, and in purple, airbrushed letters it read “Chicano.” The tattoos on his hands and neck indicated he was a fan of, and was perhaps somehow affiliated with the “Norteño” half of a popular gang rivalry in California.

His appearance made his current actions that much more perplexing. I checked again. He was definitely looking me up and down and was licking his lips. He was also apparently not buying his first beer of the evening. I was glad we had something in common.

I decided to be cool and assume he was just being friendly, so I gave him the universal “what’s up?” nod that guys my age always give each other, though I actually said “hey man, how’s it going?”

He asked me “Hey man, have you ever seen Pulp Fiction?”

This was the moment where I paused intellectually, backed up out of myself, and considered the situation for what it was. It was amusing to me, because I hadn’t expected, nor had I imagined when I woke up that morning, that later in the evening I might be standing in a mini-mart with a Chicano gang-banger discussing cinema at all, let alone the works of Tarantino.

I decided to go with it. But before I could respond, he continued. “You know what I mean man? Oh yeah. You know.”

I can safely say that I did not know.

So I said “Sure man, Pulp Fiction is one of my favorite films. I love the unlikely dialogue, and the part where Vincent Vega brings the comatose Mrs. Wallace back to his dealer’s house because she accidentally over-dosed is one of the most intense cinematic moments I have ever experienced.”

I was having a good time. I made a mental note to strike up random discussions on random topics with random people in random places more often.

He didn’t consider my assessment very long before he retorted with “I like the part where they fuck the guy in the ass.” He added “you know what I mean man? Oh yeah. You know.”

It was my turn at the counter. I made my purchase as I considered his position.

“I also like the part where they accidentally shoot Marvin in the face” was all I could think to say as I walked out somewhat perplexed but trying very hard not to laugh.

He followed me a little way to my car, and must have seen Marcus sitting in it, because he wandered back to his friend and their car, oddly enough a late-model Chevy Impala with 22 inch wheels. I laughed and told Marcus the story as they passed behind us twice and finally drove away.

What the hell?

I was glad I realized the unexpected nature of the situation while I was in it, and that I was able to be immediately amused by it. That made me happy.

I do love Pulp Fiction. It remains one of my favorite movies of all time. I don’t know about the anal sex though. I guess I hadn’t fairly considered it within the larger social context. For example, I never thought of using it as a way to hit on people. I guess I hadn’t thought of any movie in that particular context before.

But maybe next time I see an attractive woman standing in line somewhere I will ask “Hey baby, have you ever seen Knocked Up?”

I am just waiting to see what the extraordinary will do with me next.