Interviews with Strangers, part 2

When I left you yesterday, you had just learned of how Heidi and I met two teen girls at the Riverfront, and of how they thought we were both sixteen years old. Departing from the unintentional insult, we walked a bit further until we happened across two guys.

"You talk to them," Heidi whispers.
"No, you." Contrary to what you may believe about me, I actually very rarely talk to strangers. In fact, sometimes I rarely talk to people who I do know when I spot them in public places or wherever. For example, I have avoided at least three high school acquaintances while shopping in Target, not because I dislike them, but because I am so incredibly awkward that my instant reaction is to hide behind a display of Snuggle soft laundry detergent.

Heidi initiates the conversation with "Hi, this girl has a blog and we want to interview you." Heidi thinks that if you tell anybody you have a blog, they will instantly want to be featured on it, as they think it will make them famous or something. I've been featuring myself on this blog for over three years and I have yet to appear on Ellen or The View.

The interview with the two fellows consisted of us guessing their ages and of them guessing ours. I overestimated and thought the 21 year old was 24, and that the 19 year old was 21. This was a lot more accurate than their estimations, because they also thought I was SIXTEEN. After being insulted twice, I didn't really feel like interviewing them anymore, so the questions ended.

Heidi and I moved on to the Jerky Hut. We approached the employee and I was determined to give him a hard time, since I was in a ruffled mood. "Do you have any vegetarian jerky?" I ask. He says no. I act offended. I ask him how many kinds of jerky they have. He says one: beef. I say, okay, but how many different flavors? Because I see a zillion boxes all over the place, and they can't just be for one flavor of beef jerky. He counts the boxes like a child, touching the tops of each one to keep track. "Twelve," he says. I'm impressed by his ability to count past single digits. Sorry, that sounded mean. I really didn't think he was an idiot. Like I said, I was in a ruffled mood.

"How old do you think we are?" Heidi prods. I give the jerky guy a look that is as dry as rawhide. He wisely decides not to answer. We settle on the question "who do you think is older?" He answers that he thinks I am, which makes me happy...for a second.
"Do you see wrinkles?" I ask. "What makes you think I am older?" He says that he just thinks I am. Whatever. We move on.

 The best is saved for last. We enter Brad's Reptile World, which is a big white tent with snakes and lizards and other scaly creatures inside. I look at some snakes in cages and  instantly feel like I can really understand them. This prompts me to wonder if I'm like Harry Potter at the zoo and can understand Parseltongue.

Out of no where I hear "¡Hola!" and wonder when snakes converted from Parseltongue to Spanish. Then I realize it was the parrot sitting on the tree.   "Hola," I reply. "¿Como te llamas?"
Only the parrot is not into introducing herself, and instead says "Hello."
"We're past that already, hun. ¿Prefieres inglés o español?"
She doesn't say anything after that, but stares at me with her big parrot eyes. I think to myself it's a good thing I didn't rely on a bird to be my interpreter the last time I was in Mexico, because they really freeze up under pressure.

Next, Heidi and I spot two male employees. One of them is holding a snake and I muster the courage to get my picture taken with him (the courage to pose with the employee, not the snake, that is).

Me, Alfred the snake, Aaron's hand, Andrew in the background.

I asked what the snake's name was and he didn't have one. Aaron, the employee, asked me if I wanted to name him. I love naming things. The brown spots on the snake kind of reminded me of a knit sweater my great-grandpa used to wear, so I decided on naming the reptile Alfred. My great-grandpa was not named Alfred, but this seems like an old fashioned name appropriate for a brown-sweater-wearing snake.

That guy whose face you see in the photo is named Andrew, and I quizzed him on his job. He does not work at Brad's Reptile World because he loves snakes; he works there because Brad is his uncle and he couldn't find any better jobs. Fair enough. I worked for my uncle once.

Andrew told me about this one time when he was nine years old and he was playing at his Uncle Brad's house. A boa constrictor got loose and nearly squeezed Andrew to death during a game of hide and go seek...okay, so maybe that last paragraph is a lie. But I bet if I had talked to Andrew longer, he would have some stories like that.

After getting the three minute down-low on Andrew's life, he brings out this fatty lizard who looks like he's been licking too many blue raspberry Otter pops. Herpetologists may refer to this creature as the blue-tongued skink, but I refer to him as Roberto, after one of my favorite students. It takes me a while to convince Andrew to let me name the reptile.

Otter Pops are a delicious low-calorie summer treat. Skinks love them.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" I ask.
"I don't know," Andrew replies.
"So we need something ambiguous that would work for male or female."
"Yeah, like those names from the Twilight characters." It suprises me that Andrew mentions Twilight, though I appreciate people who can make pop-culture references, since it makes conversations funnier.
"You mean like Edward?" I ask.
"No, like Taylor," Heidi interjects. "Taylor Lautner," the werewolf actor who has misplaced all of his shirts.
"Or...Jordan."
"Or Peyton/Payton."

Being a teen werewolf is hard work. Your t-shirts rip apart every time there is a full moon.

Despite our offerings, Andrew turns them down because they just are not exciting enough.
"Roberto," I say, rolling all the rs and sounding really foreign. "Or Roberta." We stick with Roberto, even though this skink may be female. Sorry if it has a gender-identity crisis in a few years. In reflection, Roberto was not a very culturally appropriate name, seeing in how Blue-tongued Skinks are native to Australia.
I tried to give my new scaly friend my blog URL card so he/she could read the Brad's Reptile World post I intended on writing, but I am pretty sure Andrew-Brad's-Nephew pocketed it.

Roberto's cousin, Manuel.