Today had some serious drawbacks.
So, it was AS women's social group, and I decided to go. Got up, got dressed, went and caught the bus, no problems.( Read more... )
SF group at the pub was three blokes. We talked. I think I annoyed one guy at least as much as he annoyed me, and there were many things
I tried not to say. ( Read more... )
So then it was 10.30pm and the taxi arrived and I thought yaay, escape now!
... the taxi driver asked what I'd been doing, I mentioned SF club, he asked if I was into space science and started rattling off a list of space exploration we've been doing lately. Yaay! Conversation about shiny things! I mentioned Pluto and all seemed well.
He followed up by saying that of course they'll be disclosing the presence of alien life in the next ten years.
And then he mentioned Ancient Aliens and things went rapidly downhill.
The problem is not his theories. Though I haven't followed that shit since the 90s and I'm still better informed than him. The problem isn't even that he didn't seem to be doing a joy of sharing thing, since he seldom acknowledged when I added a detail, and wasn't keen on me being able to answer his direct questions since he would then repeat back to me what I said only more emphatically. The problem was he talks with his hands.
While doing 50 in a 40 zone. And then again on the motorway.
Now call me strange, but I feel the driver should hold the fucking wheel
on occasion, and indeed further feel that those occasions should be all times the vehicle is in motion
He on the other hand felt that it was substantially more important to illustrate the angle of the secret stairs in the Mayan pyramids that lead to the stone sarcophagus that shows a dude in a space suit, doing more than the speed limit in a built up area, or to illustrate the exact principles of warp drive and what it does to spacetime, while doing 70 on the A47.
I was sitting there with all my fingers crossed praying not to die an ironic death. I only wrote for Fortean Times that one time. My X-Files phase, while devout at the time, is long over. And if I crashed FT wouldn't even know it was one for the Strange Deaths files, unless someone could report the conversation.
So while I understand the joy of finding an audience and could in other circumstances have a happy conversation about this stuff - and possibly lend him some of my reference library because dude really needed to polish some of those topics, and seriously, the pyramids thing isn't that hard, no you don't need to be in space to align buildings correctly especially
when there's so many fucking stars you could line any three points up with something in the sky, and really finding it surprising that ancient people knew shit is not fortean but simply racist - in other circumstances
I could have a fruitful discussion on this stuff, but not while he's driving.
After the gestures for emphasis over the whole 'all religion is sky dudes' thing, where mentioning that Buddha was pretty much just a dude did not go down well, I decided contradicting the driver was clearly not of the good.
So then we arrived at my house pretty rapidly. And I think my shoulders are still up around my ears.Wow
do I prefer the time I got a taxi driver who talked Doctor Who actors he'd picked up. Or even the silent ones. Silence is fine.
I've been trying to figure out if I should tell the taxi company? Not about the aliens, dude wants to believe, but the speeding and the hands.
Not tonight though, tonight I'm going to hide under a blanket until my eyes stop doing OO