My Experience with a Gypsy

You ever have those experiences that leave you wondering just what to think about life?  Those moments where you’re sitting by yourself after it happens and going – what does this mean about my existence as a human being?  When you can look at the sun and have a greater appreciation for the world?  Good.  Now forget all that pretentious bullshit and let’s talk about what it’s like to meet a really interesting/crazy person who you only get to know for one day, and then she vanishes, never to be seen again.  That was my experience yesterday, where I met a bonafide gypsy.  For real, this girl hit peak gypsy levels.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.  Let’s talk about what happened.

It all started at Starbucks.  A friend and I were meeting there to have some nerdgasm about a game that both of us are into – Life is Strange. You know, given what happened afterwards, that seems like the most fitting thing ever.  I go to meet with a person to talk about Life is Strange, and I have a strange adventure with a person who I am genuinely glad I met.  My friend and I were talking, when this kindly young lady inserts herself into the conversation.  She eventually came to sit at our table, and the story began.  The conversation about Life is Strange didn’t get very far after that.

My friend eventually had to leave, so I was left talking with my new gypsy companion.  After a while, we left Starbucks and went wandering.  We stopped off at some tiny church, where we gabbed about religion for ten of so minutes.  Then, she just decided to leave.  The two of us decided to go to my place and get high.  I got the good stuff, from a friend of mine.  This began an afternoon where the two of us were sitting and talking.  We talked about our lives and stuff about it.  It seems that my dear gypsy had spent some time in a psyche ward.  Problems with addiction.

As the two of us got to talking, we were able to find something in each other.  At least, I like to think so.  Maybe she was just totally high and it was all me.  But when we peeked under the hood of each other’s problems, it became clear that there was a person who had gone places.  I found out that she was indeed a wanderer.  She came from Canada, yet ended up in my state and was trying to find a way home.  She was able to prove that part of the story, so my skepticism was abated.  Totally quirk in the extreme, this lady was odd.  But that’s one of the things that I like.  I like when a person is unusual.  I’m unusual.  It’s too easy to meet a person and think that they are so uninteresting.  I meet so many, almost all just kind of fade into the background.

After one of the strangest afternoons, my gypsy was getting rather restless and decidedly less pleasant to be around.  She was very annoyed about having no way home.  Eventually, she left.  It was an odd feeling.  On the one hand, things had gotten much less fun.  On the other, she was an interesting person, and how often do you get a chance to meet unique people?  Oh, and the fact that she was smoking hot helped.  You wouldn’t see it by looking at her, in a hoodie, vest and coat, but she was a total babe!  I got to have a peek under that hood, when she randomly decided to change clothes (I came to expect the unexpected, with her), and wow!  It’s not me being shallow.  I found her unique and interesting long before I saw that she was sexy in the extreme as well.  One could grow to like gypsies.

However, just when I saw the story ending, it didn’t.  Much later that night, long about midnight, who should return – the gypsy.  My cousin is crashing here for the month of April, and we were settling in.  The gypsy knocks on my window and asks if she can crash here for the night.  My compatriot was not pleased with this idea.  Truth be told, neither was I.  I hadn’t forgotten how decidedly less fun she had gotten from earlier.  Had she had anywhere else to go, I would have told her to be there.  But call me a sentimental jackass, but I wasn’t about to tell a pretty young lady to go crash out in the cold out-of-doors.  It is still technically winter.  Even if you wouldn’t tell by looking at it.  Winter showed its face here in Alaska for the better part of two months.  After that, I guess it conked out.  In any case, the gypsy had nowhere else to go, so I let her crash here.

And the story still got interesting.  See, she wanted to crash under my bed.  No joke, that was where she wanted to sleep.  At first, she crashed in my throne chair.  But then, at some point, she did end up sleeping there.  How do I know?  Well, when I got up the next morning, the gypsy had vanished like a puff of smoke.  But there was a memento.  Something under my bed.  What?  Her tarot cards.  That’s right, tarot cards.  This woman just hit peak gypsy levels!  Now, however, the story is done.  My cousin says that we’re lucky that we didn’t get robbed.  I have a little more faith in people than that.  Especially since she didn’t do anything wrong.  Not really.  He just didn’t like her because she was kind of crazy and ever-so-slightly rude.  Well, not rude, so much as had ZERO filter.  She said whatever strange thing came into her mind.  If it was a thought, she put it out there.  Part of what I liked about her.

Now that she’s gone, I’m a little sad.  See, this isn’t the first gypsy that I’ve come to know.  There was one before her.  It was back in high school.  This lady was a free spirit, and lived each day different.  She saw things differently, too.  Hanging with this gypsy, getting to know her the way I did, I realized just how much I’ve changed.  Those months where my first gypsy and I got so very close.  And, just like the one who vanished in the night, I will never know what happened to the first.  I hope she’s well, wherever she is.  As for this gypsy, I suspect that I’ll know more of her story.  Eventually.  She is friends with me on Facebook now, after all.  Can’t be too gypsy in the 21st century, eh?

There is a lesson to be learned – when life throws you a curve, don’t try to go around it.  Embrace it.  Go towards that curve.  It might just be the best decision you can make.  Sure, it could also end up with you a bathtub, with your kidney removed, but what’s the point of going through all the unpleasantness of life if you aren’t able to live a little?  For the first time in a very long time, I feel awake.  My gypsy has woken me up.  I hope she ends up finding her way home.  Perhaps, one day, I might do the same.  For now, I’ll just stare at these tarot cards.  A memento of our time together.

Until next time, a quote,

“Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans.”  -John Lennon

Peace out,



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