It was a flawless Target experience.  Find my item, head to buy it.  In and out, no problem.

Standing in line, I was waiting for the woman in front of me to complete her purchase.  I placed my things on the conveyor belt and watched them head toward the front.  Then a father and his three girls appeared in line behind me.  The children seemed to be Elementary School age, just like two of my boys.  I continued to watch my items ride the conveyor belt toward the front.

Suddenly, the man turned to his kids, pointed in my direction, and in a playful voice said, “Hey girls, I think that’s someone you know.”  I turned toward them somewhat embarrassed.  Should I know them?  Did I know them?  They looked like people I should know, I might know, I guess.

I gave a smile, shyly waved, and said, “Hello.”  Their looks however continued just beyond me, toward someone else, toward the woman in front of me in line, toward someone they actually knew.

Unfortunately, a portal to somewhere anywhere did not open up at that very moment in Target, suck me away, and end my suffering.  Instead, I was left there to wallow in my embarrassment, as the person before me in line and the folks behind me said their hellos.  I was but a human hindrance.  An obstacle to overcome.  Not an acquaintance.  Not a friend.  A stranger.  Barely a human.  I was a creepy confused stranger waving to random people in line at Target.

“Please, give me one extra bag with my purchase.  Preferably a paper one, so that I can wear it over my head.”