Call Me....

You can say a lot about the city of Orlando and even more about the people of Orlando. You can say even MORE about the students of Orlando. About thee days ago I was walking back to my car after class. We just finished watching Paper Moon, which was fabulous and were discussing the scenes, which ones we liked, which ones we didn’t.

“I don’t watch black and white movies. They give me a headache,” Tennessee said.

“I can only watch a select few,” Man of Mystery said.

“Some of my favorite movies are black and white like Streetcar named Desire,” I told them.

“What’s that?”

“Streetcar? Well, it’s about a crazy bitch and she gets raped and-“

“No, that. On your windshield.”

I stopped talking and walking and saw what Tennessee was talking about. Clamped between my windshield wipers and…windshield was a piece of paper. The paper was ripped, like the person (people?) did this in a hurry.

“I’m not sure. What is it?”

Mystery took it, unfolded it and started laughing. “You know what this is? This is a call me note.”

I took it from him, unsure,  wondering why people are still doing this. Sure enough, it was a call me note. At the top, in what seemed like female handwriting was Hey. Below that was her (his?) phone number.

“Are you going to call?”

“No. I don’t know who this is! It could be some creepy asshole.”

“Yeah or that guy who wore a tail to class today,” Tennessee said.

I couldn’t help but agree with him.

“If you don’t, I will,” mystery said, phone already in his hand.

“Fine go ahead. But if you get killed, don’t come after me.”

He dials the number and places the phone to his ear. The time slows down, waiting for someone to pick up. After about three minutes, we were all impatient, mystery hung up.

“No answer.”

He hands me the ripped notebook paper, “In case you get bored.”

I sit and look at it, as you read this. I couldn’t help but wonder if 324-4521 found what he (she?) needed and that it wasn’t anything important. Or my secret admirer, trying at last, to reach me. I wondered should I, if you don’t? Should I take the time to call them if they couldn’t call me, let alone talk to me in person.

Maybe I’m thinking too far into this, maybe it was an honest mistake. The note was for someone else with the same car. Maybe it was for Tennessee or Mystery Man.

Please don’t call that number. I’m still unsure who it is and wouldn’t want to endanger your pretty selves.