Disaster at 1 O'Clock

The other day I was on my lunch break and went to my regular lunch spot. My car. I’ve found a nice little place where I can park and look out at the ocean and eat a packed lunch (in this economy you have to tighten the belt where you can. Especially when you’re unemployed). Before you pass judgment on my eating in my car, remember that I work alone in a home office and don’t have anyone to grab food with. With that said, my lunch spot is usually a very peaceful place to escape the office, listen to my rap music that I’m far too nervous to play at work for fear that my boss’ children will hear, and enjoy a break. But today disaster struck.

An older man, I’d say 65, stood outside of my car and stared at me. He wasn’t directly outside of my window but close enough to make me sufficiently uncomfortable. I could feel him staring at me. I tried to busy myself with my iPod and air conditioning buttons, but that did not help.I think we all know the only appropriate time for one person to stare at another for a long period of time. And that is when a grown up stares at an infant (ages newborn-three years).

We are all guilty of watching a child struggle to scoot across the floor or open their sippy cup, smiling as they discover the world. And when said child turns and notices you staring at them, it is normal for you to smile, in wide-eyed shock, (like you haven’t been spying on them for hours) and hold your arms out, inviting them to waddle into your embrace. It’s almost rude to NOT stare at a child because then you seem cold hearted. Has anyone wondered if our staring at babies makes them uncomfortable? When they get to the age that their parents tell them that staring is impolite, do they wonder why their mother did pass this information along to complete strangers for the first three years of their life?

Yes, for some reason it is socially acceptable—neigh, expected—to stare at infants. But I’ll tell you what is not socially acceptable: the 65-year-old man staring at me while I eat lunch. It is also not socially acceptable to then, upon us locking eyes, proceeding to react with the wide-eyed, shocked grin that is reserved solely for babies. I responded to this by picking up my phone and fake calling my dad, which turned into real calling my dad because I’m bad at acting. Then I pulled away casually and drove several blocks forward to finish my Clif Bar. I suppose I should have been flattered, everyone aims to have the smooth, flawless skin of a child, and he just asserted the fact that I do have such skin. But as unsettling as the entire situation was the worst part is I need to find a new place to eat lunch.