Schmoove wit da Ladies !

This is a classic tale of how smooth I am with the ladies...

So I'm at Burning Man Decompression street party. I'm listening to some music, and off to the side I notice a young lady dancing pretty impressively with hula hoops (like, gee, maybe she's a *professional* hula hoop dancer, though I'm not sure where they get employed?!)

I step back to the sidewalk, enjoying the music and another hula hoop woman goes to it. She's about 4'8" tall, maybe a little young for me, but pretty cute, and she certainly knows how to handle a hula hoop (?) She stops, and this guy about 6'5" starts hitting on her. Frankly, he seems awfully domineering. He's wearing a Folsom Prison orange jumpsuit as his costume, and I notice he's got handcuffs on one wrist, like he could just snap the other cuff on her wrist and haul her away. She has glanced at me a few times, and I sorta smile back, but there's this huge guy there bending her ear; what am I going to do?

They're standing about 10' away, but he's so overbearing, that she ever-so-slightly keeps backing away from him -- just 1/2" at a time. Anyway, as this goes on and on, finally, the woman is standing right next to me, close enough that I could just put my arm around her without even moving. Tempting, yes, but there's this 6'5" guy in a prison uniform, and as he's cowering over her, he's also sort of giving me these, "this is my prey, dude" looks. At this point, it's no great effort for me to join their conversation, or at least, get in a word edgewise.

Oddly, they're talking about chickens... How she likes chickens and actually raised a chicken in her 7th floor apartment, but finally had to get rid of it when it started crowing. Well, I've raised chickens! (the neighbor's dog ate them). This woman seems odd enough we could have something in common?

And so, because she's standing close enough for me to put my arm around her, I interject, "Here in the City?"

"No, in San Jose. The tallest building in San Jose... well, the tallest building you can live in, that is."

Anyway, Mr. Folsom Prison is still blathering on about who knows what, and about 5 sentences later, he says, "So, do you live here in town ?"

Dude, we already covered that (thinking, but I remain silent). He starts going on about how he owns a house, and she could have a dog and chickens at his house. (what? this place must be in Lodi or something).

...and as I'm thinking what a loser this guy is, they walk off together. I stand dumbfounded.

An hour or so later, I run into them again. She's hula-hooping to another sound track, and he's standing there showing everyone his lack of rhythm. I dance a bit and think, ok, when he's a fair distance, I'll see if I can get her email address (which will tell me if she at least has basic literacy). Over the course of several songs, four different guys zoom in and chat her up. I, on the other hand, seem to be waiting for air traffic control to give the landing signal.

Oh well, maybe it wouldn't have gone over so well anyway, when I would say something like... "so... did you eat the chicken?"