I’m Not Superstitious… But I am a Little Stitious.
I’ll start this post simply. I can’t decide whether I’m more upset about losing $25 on this adventure or the 7 minutes I spent in the psychic’s domain.
Erin, Dylan, Daniel, and I were at brunch, where I had quite possibly the worst Bloody Mary I’ve ever tasted while the rest of the group enjoyed bottomless mimosas. The food, however, was fantastic–thanks for asking. Erin mentioned a psychic near the restaurant and suggested we go. I’d mentioned it previously as a new thing I wanted to try. I couldn’t help but think the psychic somehow planted this idea in her head.
We walked to the psychic’s lair after brunch and rang the doorbell. I glanced at a flier for a $25 palm reading special. It looked worn, as if this psychic didn’t have the foresight to replace it. Or perhaps he hadn’t used his psychic abilities to determine when he needed new printer ink. Or maybe he didn’t have a printer, and didn’t use his psychic abilities to check when the library was open and walked through the rain only to get there 5 minutes after it closed. Any number of things could have interfered with his powers in this endeavor.
I rang the doorbell and waited with Dylan and Erin behind me (Dan didn’t join us–he had “plans”). After about two minutes, a short man in sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt open the door and looked at me, slightly bamboozled. His toes were spread far from each other, and his teeth had the same issue. There was a huge bulge between his ankles; I won’t even speculate there. His eyes, however, were mildly inviting with a touch of crazy, as if he was a bit unhinged.
I nervously pointed to the flier and told him I was there for the $25 special, and he welcomed us inside. The room was small, with two chairs and a small table near the window. The psychic shooed Erin and Dylan out of the room to wait outside, all the while saying the reading was private. He glanced nervously outside as Dylan pulled out his camera. The psychic asked me why Dylan had it, and I said “He likes to take pictures.” Odd that he couldn’t figure that one out, given his supernatural powers. I found out later that Dylan had forgotten his memory card. Too bad he’s not a psychic or he could have foreseen this type of thing.
The psychic told me to hold $25 cash in my hand and make two wishes. I did so, and he promptly took the cash. He touched my hand to gaze at my palm–his own hands were very cold–and started tracing the lines on my palm with his index finger.
“This line is your life line,” he said, pointing to the longest line on my palm. “You will live a long life.” Luckily for me, “long” is a very specific term that means a lot in this context *rolls eyes*. He continued, “Do you have a friend’s wedding coming up?”
“I’m seeing a wedding or an engagement.”
I thought more. “Nope, nothing coming up.”
He pivoted. “How about a trip, then?”
“Yes, I have a trip coming up.” I actually have 4 trips coming up, but I thought he should know that. Apparently weddings and vacations are easy to mix up.
“It’s going to be very good for you.”
I got a bit salty at this, because DUHHHH, any of my upcoming trips will probably be good for me. Visiting my sister (which I just came home from) is always refreshing, my upcoming work trip will be a big step in my career, my Europe tour with one of my best friends will undoubtedly be amazing, and visiting another best friend over Thanksgiving will be a great holiday. This is not news to me, nor did he actually know any of it.
Moving on, he told me I could ask him two questions. I asked him 1) if I’d find love and be happy with someone and 2) if I’d be successful with my writing (I didn’t mention this blog post, but chuckled when I thought about how this very experience was fodder for my writing). His answers? Yes and yes. He granted me one more question, so I asked if I’d have good stories to tell when I’m older.
“Yes. You’re going to be a great dad.” I did not ask about having kids at all. “But don’t have more than 3 children or you’re kidding yourself.” He forced a laugh and I awkwardly followed suit.
He thanked me and told me to come back sometime for a tarot card reading. I glanced at my watch; it had been 7 minutes. Apparently, despite his lack of premonitional power, this psychic had a real knack for taking a ridiculous amount of money for 7 minutes of pseudo-work. My future is clear now: I’m never going back.
Next week: Cole flies.