Story 1: "Just Go Home!"

Story 1:
I begin my blog with this story because everyone seems to like this one the most, although I am never sure if it is the story, or the way I tell it.

Picture it. DC, 2001. It is August, a young man has recently returned home from college in Ohio to live with parents and go to graduate school in Washington, DC. Most of his high school friends have moved away or out of touch. He is lonely and itching to have some fun, regardless of lack of company. And more importantly, he’s bought these beautiful black leather half boots with a slight flamenco dance shoe heel- I needed to go out.

Upon reading the weekend section of the Washington Post, he finds an advert for Kim Coles at the DC Improv. If you remember Kim Coles, a comedienne, who played Sinclair on the television show, Living Single, with Queen Latifah, Erika Alexander- cousin Pam on The Cosby Show’s last seasons, and Kim Fields, who played Tootie on Facts of Life. While most people I know were watching Friends, I was watching Living Single. They aired at the same time.

I drove into the city, found parking a bit away, and tried to get into the DC Improv. Unfortunately, I did not make reservations. There was no room, the place was packed, and they wouldn’t let me in. So, disheartened, I walk back to the car, not my car- but my stepfather’s car because my Toyota was getting serviced in Fairfax. I’m disappointed because I cannot see my favorite comedienne and I have driven into the city for nothing.

So, I stand on the side of the street and smoke a cigarette because I, of course, cannot smoke in my stepfather’s car. Unexpectedly, a car pulls up to me, rolls down the window, and asks where Connecticut is. (I should mention here that people ask me directions and questions all the time. Apparently I have a sign on my head that says, “I know the answer, ask me a question, I can help you.”) I instruct them, “The letter streets go this way, the number streets go this way, the state streets are diagonal, go that way,” and I point. Another car pulls up and asks how to get to Southeast DC. I repeat myself, “The letter streets go this way, the number streets go this way, the state streets are diagonal, go that way,” pointing another direction this time.

Then, a third car pulls up, a Lincoln Town Car with tinted windows and rims gleaming in the moonlight. An obese man rolls down his passenger side window and poses the question, “Hey, what’s going on tonight?” And, I, like the lonely bum I am, actually respond.

“I came to see Kim Coles at the DC Improv, she played Sinclair on the television show, Living Single, with Queen Latifah, Erika Alexander- cousin Pam on The Cosby Show’s last seasons, and Kim Fields, who played Tootie on Facts of Life. But I didn’t make reservations and could not get in. So, I’m standing here smoking because my car’s getting serviced at Fairfax and I can’t smoke in my stepfather’s car.”

Yes, I repeated that all in its entirety. More importantly, because the large man in the car had a deeper voice than mine, and he was hard to hear with all of the DC noises around, I said ALL of that while leaning, albeit slightly, towards his passenger window. I had hardly said, “Tootie,” before I heard a quick siren and bam, I was pulled, cuffed, and pushed around onto a police car. It took me a minute to realize what was happening. But I was quickly stating my case, “I don’t know what you think is going on, but I came here to see Kim Coles at the DC Improv, she played Sinclair on the television show, Living Single, with Queen Latifah, Erika Alexander- cousin Pam on The Cosby Show’s last seasons, and Kim Fields, who played Tootie on Facts of Life. But I didn’t make reservations and could not get in. So, I’m standing here smoking because my car’s getting serviced at Fairfax and I can’t smoke in my stepfather’s car.”

Yes, I repeated that all in its entirety. I said it about three times to the police officers when one officer un-cuffed me and said, “Just go home, kid.”

Ok. I could have left right then, but I am a man of principle. And I was under the impression that they were letting me go because they were sick of hearing my story over and over and not because they realized they were wrong and I was NOT soliciting and, more importantly, NOT a sex worker (I was skinnier that summer). So, I asked them to make sure, “I don’t know what you think is going on here, but I need to make sure you don’t think that you are being ‘nice’ by letting me go, because I was innocent in the first place…” I continued for a bit until both police officers said together, “Just GO HOME!”
And, then I drove home.

The End (for the second part of the story involving more sexual solicitation and burning leather shoes, ask me later).