Monday morning, after some of my family spent the night on the 18th floor of a hotel in Atlantic City, I decided to get a look at the ocean. The evening before, I’d seen the inlet, but by the time my sister pointed to the direction the ocean would be, we were off and running.

I pulled the curtain back from the right side of the window.

At the distance of an MRI, on our balconyless floor:

A man’s face, with a yellow Stanley drill pointed at me.

My heart didn’t pound. I didn’t scream. I simply put the curtain back in its privacy position. Then I started laughing as my sister came out of the bathroom.

It got really funny after that. No matter which side she’d peak at—there he was. Until we realized there were two of them. One was much cuter—I don’t know why she didn’t notice that. Must have been the distraction of those Stanley drills aimed at us. We tried not to wake our mom with our laughter. She said we were reminding her of herself and her older sister cracking each other up when they were young. Later in the day, we noticed the notice:  Sorry for the inconvenience…working on the window trim…8am to 5pm….etc. My other sister in the next room only saw a rope. I guess she thought someone’s luck at the slots hadn’t been the best.

Even through the event was hilarious, I’m just wondering where I am emotionally that it wouldn’t be a cause to be startled.

I simply am ready for anything at all from anyone. If someone acts weird, I just chalk it up with the tally marks of the rest of them. I give up instead of confront now. There have been too many people I’ve been wrong about, so I don’t have the expectations to warrant confronting them with “Why?”

I answer for them: “Why not?”

There’s a line from my favorite movie, Soylent Green, when Charlton Heston asks a woman, the victim of unfair treatment in a future society with no respect for human life, if she ever gets angry. She answers softly, “What for?”

Where am I?