Unfiltered Story #365768

I have difficulties with recognizing people. Oftentimes, this leads to weird situations for me, where someone who knows me (usually through knowing my parents; seems like they know everyone) will approach me and start chatting pleasantly with me, and I’ll smile politely and chime in when it’s appropriate but I’ll be freaking out on the inside because I have no idea who they are. This one, however, took the cake.

I was on my way home from work. It was already dark out, and I don’t have a licence, so I walk everywhere I go. I go around a bend and see a car nearly hit a drunk Native woman, probably around my age, stumbling around in the road. She’s yelling after the car long after it’s gone, and even punches the speed limit sign on the side of the road. Then she spots me and comes over to talk to me. I try to just stay quiet and continue on my way, but she keeps following me, talking to me, asking why I’m not answering. Finally, I hit my limit. I’m far from proud of this; I yelled at her “Leave me alone, you drunk!” and ran off as fast as I could.

A few days later, I’m out for another walk, and a woman approaches me. Surprisingly, it’s the same woman. She remembered me and apologized for spooking me. I said it was fine and we went our separate ways. A few more days later, that same woman approaches me again, only this time calling me out because she thought I called her a [racial slur] that night.

To this day, I can’t tell if her memory was better or worse than mine. Neither of us knew each other; my parents didn’t start working with the local Native community until a few years later. It was dark and I was wearing a thick, dark winter coat that night, hiding my face, and she was so drunk she could barely walk. Even then, she recognized me, but she still misremembered what I said, and even then, only the second time.