Belgian waffle

I knew the guy in lederhosen was trouble the minute I saw him.

Standing across the intersection from me, both of us heading towards a local hiking spot, he eyed me the way a fruit fly eyes a leaky persimmon. I averted my gaze as soon as humanly possible, but I knew I'd been sucked into his vector beam.

Sure enough, as we approached the trailhead he matched my pace and grinned over at me through silvery, age-inappropriate braces.

"Happy Thanksgiving! Are those new boots you've got there? Breaking them in, huh? Where's your walking stick?! You don't need a walking stick? It comes in handy when you're going downhill!"

Maybe it was my crossed arms, hesistant replies or the way I ever-so-subtly slowed to let him get ahead, but he finally got the clue I wasn't ready to be trail buddies.

"Have a nice hike!" he called over his sage-colored-suede-strapped shoulder as he plowed ahead, singing something that sounded vaguely church choir-like at the tops of his lungs.

Valderi, valdera, baby.

***

Movie tip: If you're in the mood for a romantic drama about an interracial couple struggling with the pull between love and family loyalty, don't drop your $9.50 on the poorly written, amateurly acted "A Fond Kiss." It was bad enough to send me walking back out into the rain mid-second act. Instead, rent the amazingly wrenching and real Israeli film "Late Marriage."* It's stratospherically better, don't you know.

*Thanks for the title correction, Private Joker.