I swear… if the guy hadn’t started talking about Iran, I would have never noticed him.

Seriously…

Who talks about Iran in a park on a sunny Sunday afternoon?

Unless…

• you’re actually from Iran,
• you’re talking with close friends or family,
• you work in international politics,
• or your job somehow involves the Middle East.

Otherwise?

Go feed the ducks.

So naturally…

My detective brain activated.

Now, to be fair, this park has already surprised me more than once. I’ve met enough “intel agents,” conspiracy experts, and professionally crazy people that nowadays my survival strategy is simple:

Keep talking with my family. Keep my distance. Observe everything.

The distance was perfect. Plenty of people between us.

Excellent tactical positioning.

Then…

The noisy group sitting at the table in front of me finally left.

Of course…

Mr. “Let’s Discuss Iran in Public” immediately moved his headquarters directly in front of me.

My eyes…

My glasses…

My soul…

“OH, COME ON…”

Assessment mode activated.

Black hair.

Long sleeves.

Beard.

Tanned skin.

Athletic build.

“Hmm…”

“Latino?”

“My first theory is dead.”

“Definitely not Iranian.”

“So why was he talking about Iran?”

The investigation continued.

After approximately 0.8 seconds my brain announced:

“Cartel.”

Case closed.

Well…

Maybe not.

Let’s gather more intelligence before writing the report.

Meanwhile, I’m happily chatting with my family on the phone while secretly running facial recognition software inside my own head.

Then…

I notice tattoos hiding under his sleeves.

Blue navy T-shirt.

“Hmmm…”

New theory.

Official.

Cartel theory downgraded.

Government theory upgraded.

Then things became even weirder.

The guy keeps looking at me.

Across the park.

Again.

And again.

“Oh, fantastic…”

Now my brain is writing Netflix scripts.

I quietly tell my family:

“I think someone is recording me from across the tables.”

Silence.

Then laughter.

“No way.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“What’s wrong with your city?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s full of crazy people.”

Then they ask:

“Can you prove it?”

Me:

“I am right… almost all the time.”

Here’s my brilliant tactical plan.

“I’m going to move to the table next to him.”

“If he wants to keep filming me, he’ll have to physically turn to the right.”

My family completely loses it.

One of them says:

“Are you sure the CIA didn’t try to recruit you?”

I answer:

“No! 🤣”

“And besides… all intelligence agencies are way too corrupt for me!”

“I’m just a nurse looking for a job!”

Mission Sunday Coffee begins.

Armed with nothing but my coffee, my cane, and unnecessary confidence…

I casually walk around him…

…and sit at the next table.

(Please ask the satellites for the replay. 😂🛰️)

As I walked by…

I swear…

I could feel the awkwardness radiating from him.

He definitely wasn’t expecting ME to initiate the positional maneuver.

Sorry, baby boy.

You entered my observation radius.

I was peacefully drinking coffee, talking with my family, looking for a job.

No spy movie today.

No intelligence operation.

No secret mission.

Just caffeine.

As I passed, he was on a video call and suddenly I heard him say:

“I WILL TOWERING YOU.”

I almost exploded laughing.

Towering you?

What does that even mean?

The English.

The timing.

The drama.

The confidence.

It was so random that my brain simply gave up trying to decode it.

At this point I officially declared:

Sunday afternoon insanity confirmed.

Exactly what I expected happened.

The moment I sat down…

He ended the call.

Packed up.

Left.

Mission over.

As for me…

Well…

I discreetly took one picture for my personal “Museum of Strange Encounters.”

Not because I think he’s a spy.

Not because I think he’s cartel.

Not because I think he’s CIA.

Mostly because…

If one day Netflix asks me for evidence, I’ll be ready.

Sometimes I wish satellites had a free public account where you could simply click:

“Where did today’s weird guy go?”

😂🛰️

I live in a place where every week someone is just a little crazier than the previous one.

Meanwhile…

I dream about one day living somewhere …

…with completely normal people…

…who spend Sunday afternoons discussing football, barbecue recipes, dogs, or the weather.

Instead…

I get Iran.

Possible cartels.

Imaginary CIA recruitment.

Strategic table maneuvers.

Coffee.

And people shouting mysterious phrases on video calls.

Maybe craziness has become a professional qualification around here.

Or maybe…

This is just the local culture.

Either way…

At least it gives me great stories to tell.

🤣🤪😎