Not Funny

I promised some people I would post the following pictures.

It's actually not easy for me to do.

It wasn't easy for me to take these pictures, either.

However, I thought some of you would be interested to know that the clowns continue to stalk me - even in a different county.

I've been afraid of clowns for as long as I can remember. I don't know why. I don't recall having a traumatic experience. I just don't like them. I don't like their crazy hair, their over-sized shoes, and especially their face paint.

I remember trembling as I stood, clutching my dad's pant-leg, waiting for the clown to make me a balloon animal at a Hart & Cooley Christmas party. For some reason, I have never outgrown those anxious feelings when I see a clown. Or anything with face paint, for that matter. (I don't like mimes either, thank you very much.)

I know.

It's weird.

I also know that I'm not the only one who thinks clowns are creapy.

So imagine my shock and horror when I learned that Saltillo, Mexico has street clowns. It's true. I see this guy a lot. He juggles on street corners that I frequent often.

I get a sinking feeling in my stomach every time I get a red light. Trapped. No where to go. Cars in front of me. Cars behind me. Then... out of nowhere he emerges. Where does he come from?! I see him weaving through the stopped cars. It's like he's on a hunt for the trembling gringa praying for a green light.

I try not to notice him. I fumble for my Capstick. Change the radio station. Maybe if I don't look he won't come so close. Wrong.

He stands directly in front of my car. He smiles. Ahhhhh.... Creapy!! He begins to juggle. I try to smile. I feel my heart beating. Am I sweating? Then he comes to my open window. Is it too late to roll it up? Yes. Even I do not have the heart to be rude to the clown.

I find a few pecos and quickly shove my hand out the window. He thinks I'm paying for the entertainment. I'm just hoping that will make him go away.