The Old Woman in the Bank

I think I will continue my blog with another first. This time I will tell you about the first time something inexplicable happened to me. Like my previous story it is also out of character for it deals with ESP. And again, I believe this is the only ESP story that I have in my collection.

This story took place I believe in December of 1978. I was studying at McGill University at the time. McGill back then had a very annoying practice of having Christmas exams both before the Christmas holidays and following them. So I would have to spend all my time prior to the holidays cramming for my exams, not to mention writing them, and then when I arrived home for the holidays, would have them ruined by having to study further for those exams waiting for me on my return to school.

On this particular year I was even more overwhelmed then usual with my studies and for had not done a single bit of Christmas shopping before returning home for the holidays. And since I had one of the last exams scheduled, by the time I got home there was only one shopping day left before Christmas. I was rushed.

So that day I went to downtown Ottawa to shop, but first made my way over to my bank to get money – the Bank of Montreal on Rideau Street. When I entered the bank there was a huge line up for the tellers. (Remember them? They are sort of human automated banking machines.) Well, there was nothing I could do so I decided just to be patient and eventually I would get served and get my money for shopping.

While waiting I couldn’t help noticing the woman that was standing in front of me. She was quite old and she had a terrible cataract over her left eye. It was all a milky blue colour. I couldn’t tell about the right eye because she was turned so that I could only see her left side. Well I then went off into a world of day-dreams and didn’t think about this woman again until much later when I noticed that we were now up at the front of the line. The old woman was next, followed by me.

Now I need to first briefly explain the layout of the land here. The bank had its wickets along the left wall of the bank as you entered. The line-up wound its way down the centre of the bank heading towards the back and terminated in front of the farthest wicket in the back left corner. So as you approached the wickets you sort of had to look up and down towards your left for any free tellers.

So returning to the story, I then couldn’t help noticing the old woman in front of me. Instead of her keeping an eye towards her left for an available wicket she was instead facing to the right with her back to the wickets. I then started thinking. “God damn it, this really pisses me off. Here it is the busiest season of the year, you’ve got a bank jammed with people waiting to be served, and isn’t it just typical that the person next in line isn’t paying attention so that the teller keeps on having to call out ‘next please, next.’ And you would think this woman, half blinded by her cataract would be even trying harder to look for tellers, but what does she do, but turn her back away.”

Well that was about as far as I got in my mental tirade, because the next thing I new this woman spun around, grabbed me with both hands by my shirt, and with unexpected force threw me down the aisle in front of the wickets. I staggered to a stop and desperately tried to figure out what had just happened. I looked around, thinking there must be a free wicket that she had pushed me towards, but no they were all busy. I then looked back towards the woman to try to get some sort of sign of her intent. But she just looked blankly my way as if nothing had happened. She certainly didn’t look upset. And what is really odd is that no one else gave any indication that anything had just happened either. I didn’t know what to think or do. I briefly considered getting back in line, but there was no way I was going to stand near that woman again. So I just stood there feeling very foolish in front of the wickets waiting for a teller to come free, which mercifully didn’t take too long.

How had that woman read my thoughts, if in fact that is what she did? She couldn’t have read the expression on my face, as if that could be a reason, because she was looking away from me at the time. Or did she just have a little fit and it was all a coincidence?

Comments:
Well, this story is different in many ways. First, it doesn’t take place at night or after just waking up. It involved ESP, or seemingly so, which is completely rare from my experiences. It happened in public, in front many people, but who seemed to be almost oblivious to what had just happened. And the act was perpetrated by a human and nothing otherworldly.

For the most part I don’t know what to do with the story because it doesn’t fit the mould. It doesn’t follow a pattern. Yet I believe because it happened during the day and was a physical, almost violent, event that it has elicited the strongest memories of all. When you wake up in the morning, scratching your head, and asking yourself “what the Hell happened last night,” you immediately start doubting and questioning your memory. Did that really happen or not? But when you get thrown down an aisle in the middle of the day by a blind old woman: that you do not forget.