So I’m at the coffee shop once again. And sometimes I sit by the line, which gives people in line the opportunity to comment on my study materials.  They say, “Oooooo, Chemistry. Fun!!” That’s the comment 90% of the time  And that’s how this next conversation started out. The man was a perhaps 35 years old, dressed in jeans and a sloppy t-shirt. He was there with a friend who was wearing a kippah. He was overly friendly, and I couldn’t get a bead on his mental status. He could have been medically mentally challenged, or he could have just been giving off that vibe. My Information Systems teacher in college would tell the story about how he was sitting in a park one day writing code when a cop came up to him and asked him if he had a place to stay that night. My teacher was unquestionably brilliant, but from the outside, you could have easily deduced he was homeless from the unruly hair, distracted gaze, choppy speech patterns, odd eye contact,  untucked, spotted shirts, and the fact that he was just chillaxin in the park.  I couldn’t put the coffee line guy in an appropriate box, but it didn’t really matter; I was open to chatting him up for a bit. 

The line was moving slowly. He wanted to tell me how difficult he felt that Chemistry was. But that Biology was pretty easy. Then suddenly the conversation derailed with him asking…

“What’s your birthday?”

Me, “Oh, are you into numerology or something?”

“No, just curious.”

“July 13th”

“No Way! I’m July 15th.”

I’m running with this, “Wow, that’s crazy.”

“You know "The thing about us Cancers is that we are interested in the Truth!"

I was stunned with irony.  “Oh, and is that why we like astrology so much?”

He looked taken aback and confused. But then plowed right on.

“Well, you know, some people like to know the truth through the facts, but some people can know the truth cause it just feels right. And that’s what Cancers can do. We can feel truth.”

This went on for a bit, my eyes glazing over. When people start discussing woo I stop storing information in my head, and I go into a bit of a dissociative fugue. My bestie gal friend at the front of the line glances at me and gives me the, “Are you all right?” look.  She had caught on to the off-kilter vibe as well.  I give her back the, “We cool”  look, and she goes back to getting coffee, while I go back to looking mildly interested in the way I deduce truth.  Wondering why I study so damn hard when all this time I’ve had the power to feel my way through midterms.

When he’s done talking I say, “Oh.” And I smiled.

By then he realized that he wasn’t getting enthusiastic nodding. And I wasn’t sure about how to proceed debating with a guy with questionable mental status.  There was a beat before he said it was nice to meet me and then left the coffee shop without buying any coffee.