Thursday, March 15, 2007

I can't tell you the last time I was patted on the head

I parked the Jeep after a cop made me move, for a brief moment I thought about explaining that I was merely waiting for a friend who was too drunk to drive but from the look of him he was in no mood for anything.

I was standing by the corner when she came out asking where her Timmy was. I was introduced to her friend Shannon, who turned out not to be the slightly overweight and unattractive black woman as I had guessed. Shannon was an attractive white woman in her early thirties.

I kept the charm on low.

On the way the Shannon house, Lady G fell asleep in the back; I worried how I was going to wake her, nearly every moment my attention wasn't required on the roadway or talking to Shannon.

Keeping the charm on low caused me to get a pat on the head from Shannon as she said good bye. I hoped the alcohol was to blame for that.

When I pulled into Lady G's parking lot I sort of jerked the Jeep a bit. If she was awake, at worse she thinks I stink at driving a stick shift and if she wasn't, the little jostle did the trick.

I got her upstairs and stayed at the door for our goodbye. I then walked the eight tenths of a mile to get her car and drive it back to her house. I had to pass through the theatre district which lately has had its musicals overshadowed by shootings and knife fights. I second guessed my choice of wearing a brand new leather jacket and calculated how much effort I would put up to keep it. I emptied the jacket contents into my pants pockets.

I got to the car without an event. I attributed that to good timing, it was still quite some time before the clubs had to close at two.

She called me the next day and asked how her car got to her house. She told me I was good.

Good? I'm damn good.

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