Creepy Lady


It was the 4th of July, and while the parking lot was busy, it wasn’t the circus it had been the day before. We’d gotten to the point in the morning where my co-worker and I tell drivers to find a place to park, then pay us the parking fee on their way to the trail. We don’t want drivers to pay us, then demand their money back when they can’t find a parking spot.

The woman was driving a big pickup truck. She seemed to be alone, which was unusual, but not unheard of. (Most people come with friends or family, but some folks walk the trail alone.)

When I told the woman to park before she paid me, she acted as if I were doing her a huge personal favor. I was glad she was appreciative, but I wasn’t doing anything special for her; I treated her just like I’d treat anyone who rolled into the parking lot when I was unsure if there were a space for a new vehicle.

It wasn’t long before she was standing in front of me to pay her parking fee.

Oh, you found a spot to park? was the unimaginative greeting I used on her (and probably 30 other people that day) when she presented herself to pay.

Yes! she said and pointed over to her truck, which was easily visible from where I stood. She started gushing about how great her parking spot was, on the pavement and everything.

She took her money out of a soft suede wallet with fringe. As I got her change, she said, So what’s that meadow over there?

The back edge of the parking lot is bordered by a meadow. I know three things about the meadow:

a) it exists

b) a picnic table is located there

c) cars can’t park in it

This photo shows the meadow the woman questioned me about.

This photo shows the meadow the woman questioned me about.

My first impulse to her question was to say It’s a meadow. I figured that was a little too smart-ass because obviously she knew it was a meadow. But honestly, I couldn’t think of a single interesting thing to say about it. I managed to stammer that I thought it was part of the meadow joining the campground and the parking lot.

When I told the woman she didn’t have to put the day pass in her vehicle, she said, I think I’m going to check out that meadow!

Great! I said, I don’t really understand people who get excited about a bunch of grass, but to each his/her own. My attitude was Enjoy the meadow, ma’am.

None of the behavior I’ve described earned the lady a description of “creepy.” She was a little odd, acted a bit too familiar, but was well within the social norms of my comfort zone. It was her behavior as she was leaving the parking lot that I found creepy.

Every other week, I got to Babylon on my day off. I usually spend the night in Babylon, then head up the mountain late the second day. However, the post office where I pick up my mail is only open from 8am to noon, which limits my time in town on my second day off. Plus it’s so damn hot in the valley, which makes sleeping in the van quite uncomfortable. So I’d been scouting out places in the forest not far from my post office where I could spend the night in the cool mountain air.

I asked my co-worker who lives in the area year round if he could recommend any places that fit the description of what I was looking for. When he described a place he thought would work, I was delighted to realize it was a place I’d been looking at from the highway and wondering about. Apparently there was a creek behind where I’d seen campers parked and even pools of water back there. Score!

So back to the creepy lady…

Before she left the parking lot, she stopped her big pickup truck near where I was sitting and said, I heard you talking about BlahBlah Creek.

I was so surprised, I didn’t even know what to say. I’d had no idea that woman was anywhere in the area while my co-worker and I were discussing the creek. He and I had not been shouting. We’d been speaking in normal conversational tones. How had that woman heard us talking about the creek? Where had she been standing to eavesdrop on us? And how weird that she was admitting to me she’d been listening in, as if her behavior weren’t invasive and socially unacceptable.

I stood there thinking What the fuck?!?

She continued to chatter as if we were old friends.

I’ve never been down that road, she said, which confused me further, as I wondered how she knew about the creek if she’d never been down the road it is on. (My co-worker explained when I related this story to him, there is also a BlahBlah Creek Road, which is nowhere near the camping spot the creepy lady heard us discussing.)

What are you going to do there? she asked.

Hang out, I said. Avoid my boss. (I was planning on going there on my day off, after all.)

Then the creepy woman smiled sweetly and said, You should probably bring your head net, implying mosquitoes were going to eat me up.

I slept near BlahBlah Creek the next night and spent part of the following day there. I didn’t see a single mosquito, and more importantly, I didn’t see the creepy lady. Hopefully she forgot all about me, but if not, at least she was looking for me in the wrong place.


Flowers in the meadow

I took all of the photos in this post.


About Blaize Sun

My name is Blaize Sun. Maybe that's the name my family gave me; maybe it's not. In any case, that's the name I'm using here and now. I've been a rubber tramp for nearly a decade.I like to see places I've never seen before, and I like to visit the places I love again and again. For most of my years on the road, my primary residence was my van. For almost half of the time I was a van dweller, I was going it alone. Now I have a little travel trailer parked in a small RV park in a small desert town. I also have a minivan to travel in. When it gets too hot for me in my desert, I get in my minivan and move up in elevation to find cooler temperatures or I house sit in town in a place with air conditioning I was a work camper in a remote National Forest recreation area on a mountain for four seasons. I was a camp host and parking lot attendant for two seasons and wrote a book about my experiences called Confessions of a Work Camper: Tales from the Woods. During the last two seasons as a work camper on that mountain, I was a clerk in a campground store. I'm also a house and pet sitter, and I pick up odd jobs when I can. I'm primarily a writer, but I also create beautiful little collages; hand make hemp jewelry and warm, colorful winter hats; and use my creative and artistic skills to decorate my life and brighten the lives of others. My goal (for my writing and my life) is to be real. I don't like fake, and I don't want to share fake. I want to share my authentic thoughts and feelings. I want to give others space and permission to share their authentic selves. Sometimes I think the best way to support others is to leave them alone and allow them to be. I am more than just a rubber tramp artist. I'm fat. I'm funny. I'm flawed. I try to be kind. I'm often grouchy. I am awed by the stars in the dark desert night. I hope my writing moves people. If my writing makes someone laugh or cry or feel angry or happy or troubled or comforted, I have done my job. If my writing makes someone think and question and try a little harder, I've done my job. If my writing opens a door for someone, changes a life, I have done my job well. I hope you enjoy my blog posts, my word and pictures, the work I've done to express myself in a way others will understand. I hope you appreciate the time and energy I put into each post. I hope you will click the like button each time you like what you have read. I hope you will share posts with the people in your life. I hope you'll leave a comment and share your authentic self with me and this blog's other readers. Thank you for reading.  A writer without readers is very sad indeed.

6 Responses »

  1. Maybe you’re getting overly sensitive, with all the bozos you’ve been dealing with. There are small things to see in meadows, like bug and birds. Maybe she was an entomologist. I hear people talking all the time, and have listened to some weird conversations. Some people aren’t Socially Correct (SC, a branch of PC).

    Some people are chronic talkers. They frequently don’t know what they’re talking about, but that’s not going to stop them. The only way you can shut them up is with a baseball bat to the head.

    • And finally some people are ‘ psychic ‘ and able to hear what you say without using their physical ears. They will have info. regarding others while they are in their sleeping time, there is MUCH more than meet the eye, think about ‘ The Stargate Project ‘ in the 80’s ( put together by our own government )

      • If this woman “heard” me and my co-worker psychically, she STILL shouldn’t have commented upon it. Eavesdropping is rude, whether one does it with one’s physical ears or one’s mind. Maybe she hasn’t learned to block out what she psychically learns about people. If that is the case, she should learn not to comment upon what she knows. It creeps people like me out.

        I am glad I am not a psychic. I can’t stand most of what I hear with my ears. If I had to hear people’s private thoughts, I would probably cry all the time.

    • The creepy part wasn’t the part about the meadow. More power to people who love meadows, although I don’t get excited about them. The creepy part was her eavesdropping, then commenting on my conversation.

  2. I believe in intuition and I think you do too. Trust it and you may feel silly but you’ll be safe. The times I’ve overruled intuition, I usually regretted it.

    • Yes, Ford, I do believe in intuition. I have to, living by myself in a remote location. I can’t afford to get involved with weirdos. I try to just let them pass out of my life.

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