It seems like another lifetime ago now, but one of my favorite things to do when I lived in Las Vegas was to head down to the Strip on the weekend and watch people. I'd sit in the grass in front of the Mirage (it was brand new back then, Treasure Island hadn't been built yet) or by the leaping fountains at the Stardust. I'd write letters to my friends and occasionally I'd do a little gambling (even though I was underage).
My favorite was the night of the Parrot Snake (which I wrote about here). There were plenty of other incidents, though. There was one guy (whose name I've forgotten) who I ran into almost every time. He always sat down next to me and first would complain about being broke and having no money, but in the next breath he would ask me out to dinner. Yeah, something did not compute. I always turned him down.
I thought myself clever back then and would always work into the conversation that my father/brother/boyfriend (who did not exist at the time) was a policeman so they wouldn't mess with me. Whether it would ever actually deter anyone, I dunno. I asked this guy one night what he did. He said, "I'm a teef" It took about five minutes to figure out that "teef" meant thief. He let lonely ol' women take him to dinner and back to their hotel rooms and after doing the deed, he'd steal whatever he could.
Apparently he wasn't a very good one if (a) he was always broke (b) thought I was a suitable target and (c) admitted to a supposed cop's daughter that he was a thief.
He was, however, very funny. I actually looked forward to running into him because he was a shameless flirt and always made me laugh.
And then, the last time I ever saw him, he had a friend with him. They sat down but the friend didn't speak any English. They were both from Iran -- this was a dozen years before 911, back when most people couldn't find it on a map. In the middle of a conversation the friend started singing in Iranian (I assume). My "friend" translated softly while he sang and it was all about how beautiful I was comparing me to the sun, moon, and stars. At least that's what he said it was about. It might've been about barnyard animals for all I knew.
This always makes me uncomfortable. Not that I've had all that many men sing to me. But even when someone is being serenaded on TV, I get all squirmy and weird. I just don't know what to do with myself. So while I'm sure this was meant as a romantic gesture, I couldn't keep myself from laughing. I still kinda feel bad for ruining their moment. LOL.
So, tell me, what are you supposed to do when someone is singing to you?