If you run into an X LOVER - Don't Follow These Instructions

This is what happened.

 I went to meet a new freelance client downtown.

 I am standing on a corner at a red light and across the way at the opposite light, I spot an X LOVER (this happens at several intersections on a weekly basis).

 The decision process begins. Let’s run through this together.

 Here are the choices:

A - Walk briskly and pretend not to see him.

B - Same as A except pretend to be talking to someone on my cell phone.

C - Just be mature, polite, and normal for 3 minutes. Do the “How are you?” thing, listen attentively and then move along.

 D - At all costs, back up slowly, keeping your eye on the subject and cross at a different intersection.

 I chose option "D"

 I'm heading down the wrong street in the wrong direction and I'm thinking to myself, "Maybe I should consider going back into therapy” when things suddenly get worse. I see a relative coming straight my way and I know from vast experience that she is a close talker with halitosis (that's the worst kind of close talker). I have to think fast (faster than I can think) and I figure that if I bend down to tie my shoes, I can dodge her. So, I do the "bend" and realize that I am wearing my Blundstones (Thank you Australia for Blundstone boots, Keith Urban and The Great Barrier Reef) which have no laces.

 Then I hear her call my name and she immediately approaches already talking and tilting her head to one side (yes she is also a head tilter). 

 I'm thinking, "Why didn't I go for option "B"?

 She's talking about how good Hilary Clinton looks in Violet and she is wondering why more people don’t wear Violet and I realize that I have no idea what street I am on or what direction I am heading in, but I know I am going to be late. 

 So, out of pure desperation and the "need for speed", I raise my second finger and give her the “Hold on a second” signal and I say, "Listen, I am running late and the thing is, I have really bad diarrhea" (this is a great "out" from a conversation because no one wants to hear about your diarrhea and the only person who will ever follow up on this with “How’s your diarrhea?” is your significant other) and then I walk off continuing in the wrong direction on the wrong street. 

I arrive at my meeting 15 minutes late and I'm exhausted. 

 I am greeted by the Assistant Editor who called me with the initial brief and so far my only source of contact.

He leads me into the boardroom to meet the Editor in Chief, and there stands before me, my X who I avoided at the intersection before avoiding my relative.

 He gives me a hug and then remarks, "Great to see you, how long has it been?” while I am trying to remember what he looked like naked 30 years ago.

 The meeting begins and I start to sweat profusely, my stomach is aching and I’m hoping it’s going to pass but it gets worse, and I realize I may actually have diarrhea (and maybe I should not have eaten a bag of licorice for breakfast). I am praying for the meeting to end and when it does, I am on a mission to find the closest bathroom.

 I need to get to one of those underground malls that have 20-bathroom stalls and a door that locks.

 I’m running until I realize, running is worse, it’s just speeding up the inevitable. So, I start walking briskly while doing the “buttock squeeze” (as if that is going to do anything).

 Fortunately, there is an underground mall on every corner in downtown Montreal, so I make it to a toilet and let’s just say:

 “WHAT HAPPENS IN THE MALL WASHROOM STAYS IN THE MALL WASHROOM.”

 A sense of relief and weight loss occurs as I exit into the food court when I spot my close talking, halitosis, head tilting relative. She’s seated at a table wearing a lovely Violet sweater and as our eyes meet, she shouts across the food court,

 “HOW’S YOUR DIARRHEA?”

 Moral of the story: Intersections are meant for crossing no matter who is on the other side and licorice is not a breakfast food.

Now will someone get me some Imodium.