Setting on the little bench.

    My wife was trying on clothes, and I was sitting on one of those little benches outside the dressing rooms.  I was thinking about deer attacks.
Like, if a deer attacks you, how exactly does that work? Does it rear up on its hind legs and start doing some kind of fancy hoof work? Or does it just lower its head and come straight at you with the antlers?
    Because if a deer decides not to back down and runs toward you with antlers pointed forward, that’s basically getting stabbed by a deer. That’s crazy.
I also always forget how big deer are. They’re always bigger than I think they’re going to be. For some reason they’ve been wandering around town, too.
    I came across some this morning, and one of them just stood there staring at me. I was thinking, okay, this dude is either going to run away or he’s coming my direction. Because if that dude comes my way, I’ve got to do something. Jump on top of a car, slide underneath a car, whatever it is. Those antlers are so long. I don’t know how you’re supposed to keep them from piercing your body if a deer actually comes running at you. I think I’d climb a tree.
Anyway, while I was sitting there thinking about all this, a lady came over and sat down beside me. We sat there quietly for a while, and eventually I thought, I wonder what the weather’s gonna be.
    So I reached into my back pocket to get my phone, and this poor lady jumped about three feet in the air.
    She came back down and said, “Oh my God, I thought you were a mannequin.”
Full stop!
    There are a lot of feelings involved when somebody tells you they thought you were a mannequin. First of all, a mannequin? Dude, I’m trying to have a little panache here. I’m putting some effort into this. Jeez.
But then there’s another way to look at it. Maybe I’m wearing the latest fashions. Maybe I’m looking sharp. Maybe I’m so perfectly put together that she assumed I was part of the display.
    Still, though. A mannequin? I’m not even pale.
It just makes you feel weird. This kind of thing happens to me more often than it probably should. I’m not exactly sure why.
    I felt bad for her, too. Getting startled is rough. Every nerve ending fires off at once, your whole body gets ready for action, and then it turns out the emergency is just some nerd sitting quietly on a bench thinking about deer attacks. Sometimes I think maybe I should wear a little button that says, “I’m real.”