Monday, May 16, 2011

Twilight Zone

I decided to ride the train this morning; you know, to try to save a lil money on gas. Plus it was a gorgeous day, a good opportunity to get some exercise in.

I sat on a platform bench, opened my book and waited for the train. A man with a bike approached me:
"Excuse me, can I talk to you for a minute."

I looked up. The man had on sneakers, dirty jeans with blue gloves in his back pocket and a stained white shirt. He had a long beard, with two small black rubber bands holding it together. Oh, and he had a white t-shirt over his head. I assumed the shirt was covering locs. In fact, the shirt on his head was cleaner than the shirt on his body. Dark shades covered his eyes.

"wassup," I asked.

"Well, I think you're a very nice-looking person and I just wanted to know if I could take you out some time."

Was he serious?

"I have a boyfriend," I said.

"Well, you know, everything don't last forever. Nothing's 110%."


"So, what's your name?"

"You on your way to work?" I asked.

Yeah, he said.

"What do you do?"

"I do a bunch of this and that, you know," he said. "I do some home maintenance. I do car detailing, that's where I'm going now."

Oh, okay.

"Have you ever heard of steel pan drums?"


"You know, the steel drums?"


"Well, I have a band, a steel pan drum band and we play at the Caribbean Festival every year on Georgia Ave. You been?"

Yeah, I've been. Years ago.

"Well, my band is always out there. We practice a lot - on Wednesday nights, sometimes on weekends."

You live around here? I asked him.

"Right now, I'm staying with my sister," he said. "But I plan to move one day."

How old are you?

"31. Anything wrong with that?" he said, taking off his shades.


"I been talkin' to you all this time and you never told me your name."

"What's your name?" I asked.

"My friends call me Pete."

"Is that your name?"

"My birth name is Ali, but people call me Pete."

I heard the train and got up.

Pete handed me a card of a smiling man with long locs: "If you ever need someone to talk to you can give me a call."

I got on the train, but got off several stops away to transfer downtown. I was standing on the platform when I was approached again by a guy with dirty jeans and a white t-shirt. (Is this a new style I hadn't heard about?)

"Hey beautiful."

I mumbled a hello. He tried to engage me in conversation, but I hurried away. Not again.

What was this? Am I in the Twilight Zone?
Why am I attracting these guys? Why do they think I would be interested in them? I mean I don't think I'm dressed provocatively (I have on black slacks, a blouse and some white sneakers).

But most importantly why am I not attracting the type of guy I want?



Anonymous said...

Have you read Chelsea Handler's books? If not, pick them up. You have enough stories to write a book.

Anonymous said...

this is TOO funny!