I had just exited a subway station last night--was uptown for film festivities--when I decided to purchase Altoids (fasting all day isn't conducive to fresh breath). With wallet in hand and standing next to a pair of women, I scanned the varieties of Altoids on display, struggling to decide which flavor I wanted.
Suddenly, one of the women said, very casually, "You have something on your wallet."
I couldn't see anything on my wallet so I looked up at her quizzically.
"It's, ah, crawling," she added.
I looked down just in time to see a GIANT moth crawling up towards my hand. It was GIANT. GINORMOUS. The size of a rat or a pack of cards or an Altoids tin!
Naturally, I became all fluttery and "ah-ah-ah"d as I tried to shake the moth off of my wallet without injuring it. The women instructed me to shake my wallet harder and I "oh-my-God"d and shook my wallet harder. But that moth was there to stay. That moth wanted me to know that it was the boss. And I didn't have a problem with it's boss-dom or anything; I was just kindly asking it to take it's bossiness elsewhere. It took me squatting down and tapping the my wallet against a crate outside the newsstand to finally get rid of that moth.
But that's not the kicker, readers. What the woman told me next is the kicker:
"That moth was actually walking on your neck and it looked like it was about to go down your shirt before it flew to your wallet--"
--insert squeak of horror here--
"--and I asked her," pointing to her mostly quiet friend, "if I should tell you."
I squeaked and fluttered in horror for a while longer before paying for the bloody Altoids and hauling ass out of there BUT seriously, what kind of person doesn't tell someone else that A FREAKIN' MOSS IS TAKING A WALK DOWN HER NECK (AND POTENTIALLY DOWN HER SHIRT). Did she think the moth was an accessory? And exactly how long had I been wearing said moth?
I'd rather not think about it. Shudder.