The Boston Stalker

About 7:30 this mornin, Nathan, Mark, and I spirited ourselves out to RiverRidge golf course. We trudged over to the driving range. I hadn't hit a golf ball for over two years, and striking practice balls reminded me of all my bad swing habits ingrained in my muscle memory. I still do all the bad shit hitting a golf ball I've done for forty-one years now, since I was thirteen.

But, I digress.

One of the odd features of the driving range is having background music. At one point I was faintly aware of a muzak version of a Chicago tune I couldnt remember the name of, but then I heard Boston's "Don't Look Back" which was kind of weird because Nathan put some Journey on when we drove out and we talked about high tenor voiced arena band front men and Nathan shared his low regard for the lead singer of Boston.

Well, this afternoon I suddenly had a hankering for Chinese buffet at Jade Palace, a restaurant in our neighborhood. I sat down, started to eat some BBQ pork and a few pot stickers along with BBQ chicken and vegetarian egg roll and some fried rice when suddenly I realized that the radio station playing in the Jade Palace had put Boston's "Don't Look Back" on and I was hearing it again.

Now, as I've written about before, I enjoy bands and songs that my friends with more refined tastes in rock music think is shit. Boston is one of those bands. So, I hummed along while munching on another pot sticker, but I suddenly had a weird feeling.

Was "Don't Look Back" stalking me? Was I being followed? I was in a state of mind vulnerable to such thoughts because our Subaru was ransacked last night. The perps swiped some mugs the Deke bought at St. Vincent's and some math dominoes and other stuff she bought at Target. They overlooked the Deke's wallet, though. It was in the car and the burglars didn't see it...so didn't take it.

But, I digress.

I walked home from Jade Palace and started wondering if I was going to hear Boston's "Don't Look Back" coming out of bushes or blare out of a passing Vega. I didn't obey the song. I kept looking back.

So this evening, I went to Albertson's and bought a carton of ice cream and the Deke a bottle of wine. I bought five bucks worth of lottery scratch tickets and went over by the US bank ATM machine.

Slowly, eerily, tauntingly, even creepily, "Don't Look Back" came over the Albertson's sound system.

It was the Boston Stalker.

I cashed in my tickets for the 15 bucks I won. The woman at customer service stared for a few seconds at the my eyes darting suspiciously back and forth. She smiled, handed me my winnings and told me to have a good evening.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know. Just have a great evening. Enjoy yourself. You know. No regrets. Don't look back!"

I bolted to my car.