Harmonica Madness

At work the other night, this sweet little old lady comes up to me at the front desk. I knew before she even started to speak that this was going to be interesting.

She was dressed for a fancy rodeo, or a rain storm...not really sure which one. Between her white cowboy hat and poncho, I was confused, and apparently so was she.

Being the gracious desk assistant that I am, I was up for the challenge. I asked her what she needed, and she proceeds to tell me a 10 minute story about a swimmer, or a Baptist preacher, or something of the sort. Again, I'm still not quite sure what's happening, or what she is even saying. I think she asked me to be praying for something, at one point, and of course I said I would. (How can you say no to that??)

So now I'm committed to be praying for...something. Not sure what, so I've been covering all the bases. Mostly for swimmers and Baptist preachers.

Then, if it couldn't get any weirder, she had a gold zipper pouch on the counter. As she is relaying whatever information she thinks I need to know, she starts to unzip the pouch.

I have no idea what was supposed to be in there, but she opened it, and said (the only part of the conversation I was able to actually comprehend), "This is the wrong one! These are my antique harmonicas!"

What...?

So after at least 10 minutes of this, she decides to go to the lobby, and a few minutes after that, I hear very loud, very annoying, very bad harmonica playing.

Her and her husband leave shortly after her "concert," and they both danced-yes danced-to their car.

I'm still not sure what happened, or why they were at the gym in the first place, but this stuff always seems to happen to me.

You can't make this stuff up, folks.

-Blank You Very Much