I was probably seven years old and my brother eight years old. We were sitting on the benches of the Costco food court. Our mom clearly instructed the both of us to remain put on the benches to avoid any desperate strangers seeking our bench to eat their lunch. I incessantly drove my brother to annoyance and finally led him away to my mom standing in line. I was left isolated on the bench.
I twiddled my thumbs dully. I hoped for any sort of excitement to feed my energetic nature. All of a sudden, an unfamiliar man impetuously sat on the bench by my side as if he blindly saw an empty bench freely available. I wasn't sure whether his nonchalant approach was unusual or normal and unrecognized to my uneducated seven year old mindset. My underdeveloped timidness shied my curios eyes from ever gazing into his own. I continued to concentrate on my twiddling fingers. I pretended as if no one was sitting by my side. He casually sat as if he also pretended the seat by his side was empty. We both awkwardly acted as if it all was perfectly normal.
He discretely scrutinized his surroundings as if he was carefully locating something missing in the open air. After a few minutes, he finally asked, "Are you here alone?"
I answered, "Nope."
He proceeded to question, "Where are your parents?"
I answered, "My mom and my brother are standing in line over there," and I turned back and pointed to the location of the line where they stood.
He then inquired, "What is your home address?"
I was the most naive and ignorant child. I told him the exact address I remembered at the top of my head. Luckily, I only remembered the first few numbers of the address.
Finally, he asked, "What's your mom's number? What's your dad's number?"
Thankfully, for my safety, I was oblivious to the complete answers of nearly all the questions he asked.
Our conversation finally took a dead halt. I quickly jumped off the bench and to my mom with the bizarre incident excitedly pressing at the tip of my tongue. I finally reached her in line. The second she noticed my face, her gaze automatically missed my face and headed straight to our table and realized a grown man sitting on our seats. She was infuriated. She began fiercely lecturing, "That was the only seat available and I told you not move to keep our seat! Now someone else is sitting there and we have to search for another seat!" I struggled to explain the whole incident. The utmost frustration in her blaring lecture destructively smothered my whole explanation into disconnected descriptions. She never heard a single one of my words.
We finally collected our food. My mom angrily searched for another available bench. We ate and continued the rest of our day. My inexperienced seven year old mind was completely oblivious to the creepy dangers of the interaction with the man. I stored the bizarre incident behind me to the past.
I soon learned all about "stranger danger" later in school. I learned that grown adults with innocent intentions would not casually approach children with such questions as, "Are you here alone? Where are your parents? What is your home address and parents phone number?" I learned of all the harrowing scenarios creeping behind the minds of dangerous strangers who inquired such personal questions. I quickly reflected to the creepy stranger I encountered alone at the Costco food court.
He discretely scrutinized his surroundings as if he was carefully locating something missing in the open air. After a few minutes, he finally asked, "Are you here alone?"
I answered, "Nope."
He proceeded to question, "Where are your parents?"
I answered, "My mom and my brother are standing in line over there," and I turned back and pointed to the location of the line where they stood.
He then inquired, "What is your home address?"
I was the most naive and ignorant child. I told him the exact address I remembered at the top of my head. Luckily, I only remembered the first few numbers of the address.
Finally, he asked, "What's your mom's number? What's your dad's number?"
Thankfully, for my safety, I was oblivious to the complete answers of nearly all the questions he asked.
Our conversation finally took a dead halt. I quickly jumped off the bench and to my mom with the bizarre incident excitedly pressing at the tip of my tongue. I finally reached her in line. The second she noticed my face, her gaze automatically missed my face and headed straight to our table and realized a grown man sitting on our seats. She was infuriated. She began fiercely lecturing, "That was the only seat available and I told you not move to keep our seat! Now someone else is sitting there and we have to search for another seat!" I struggled to explain the whole incident. The utmost frustration in her blaring lecture destructively smothered my whole explanation into disconnected descriptions. She never heard a single one of my words.
We finally collected our food. My mom angrily searched for another available bench. We ate and continued the rest of our day. My inexperienced seven year old mind was completely oblivious to the creepy dangers of the interaction with the man. I stored the bizarre incident behind me to the past.
I soon learned all about "stranger danger" later in school. I learned that grown adults with innocent intentions would not casually approach children with such questions as, "Are you here alone? Where are your parents? What is your home address and parents phone number?" I learned of all the harrowing scenarios creeping behind the minds of dangerous strangers who inquired such personal questions. I quickly reflected to the creepy stranger I encountered alone at the Costco food court.
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