Chapter 1 - Decked Out in Blue

I couldn't decide whether to go to this event alone or with a date.  My guess was that this would be the type of event where the odds of meeting someone interesting would be very high.  Then again, I thought the same thing about the last few similar events, but they turned out to be a little awkward since I was one of the few people without a date.  I really didn't feel like experiencing that again, but I just had a feeling that I'd better go alone this time, so off I went. 

When I arrived I was immediately stunned by the elegance of the affair.  The location, the crowd, the food, the music---everything was first class.  As I stood there enjoying the evening, an unrecognizable feeling came over me.  It was anxiousness, nervousness, stimulation and excitement all wrapped up into one.  My heart was racing like I was preparing to jump out of an airplane for my first skydive.  What was going on?  I realized that I had just brushed shoulders "her." She was quite tall, nearly matching my 6'1" frame in her heels.  She had an earthy, natural beauty that radiated throughout the room.  There was just something about her that drew me to her, something beyond the physical, something much deeper. It was like nothing I had ever experienced.  Our eyes met.  That one lingering glance let me know that she felt something too. 

As I stood there, I almost found myself staring, though I really didn't want to do that since: (a) staring at a stranger is quite creepy, and (b) she was with someone.  I had to find out who she was.    Was she wearing a ring?  Who was that guy she was with?  Maybe it was her cousin, or just a friend.  Of course that was what I wanted to think.  I knew that was simply wishful thinking; cousins and friends don't touch like he was touching her.  I couldn't stand watching him pull her into his body like that.  I had to move to another room before I did or said something crazy, or just plain went crazy.  I had to get away.  I needed to start working the room, striking up conversations, networking---anything to get my mind off her.  After an hour or so of mingling, I recognized an attorney who I was working with on a deal.  We talked about the last few remaining deal points and managed to close a deal that had been lingering for weeks.  It turned out to be a productive night after all, though not exactly what I had expected.  Now, I'm not exactly the type to shut down the party, so I started thinking it was about time for me to head home.  Of course I was hoping to run into her again, and I walked through the entire building in hopes of doing just that.  But my luck had run out.  There was no sign of her. 

As I walked out to give my claim check to the valet, I began to get that feeling again.  But this time it was even more intense.  I knew she was around, but where?  I looked up to the front of the long line of cars, and there she was--getting in her car—ALONE!  For a split second I was frozen.  I wasn't sure whether to call out to her, run after her, or what?  I couldn't just stand there and do nothing. Before I could react, the valet closed her door and she sped off. 

            I was left there in stunned disbelief clutching my claim check, which by now was crumpled and wet from my sweaty palms.  At that moment, a strange calmness came over me.  I heard a voice telling me not to worry.  I knew I would see her again.  I knew I'd get to know her favorite color, her favorite cereal, what she buys too many/much of, what type of music she likes, her favorite song, how she likes to dress, etc. 

When I got in my car the first thing I wanted to know was exactly how I had managed to stay out so late on a week night.  My bed was going to feel so good tonight.  There was only one slight problem---my gas light was on and it had been on for a while.  I hate stopping at gas stations late at night.  But tonight I had no choice.  As I pulled into the gas station, I began to feel excited again.  I noticed a car pulling off that looked strangely familiar.  “Oh shit!  That’s her!” I sped off in pursuit.  She was not going to get away this time.  No way.  I pulled up beside her and tried to get her attention.  Of course she wouldn’t look!  I ended up driving beside her for several blocks, waving, gesturing, doing everything I possibly could to get her attention. Then I realized that my luck was about to change for the better as I noticed the traffic light up ahead turning red.  Unless she was planning on running the light, she was going to be stopped right beside me.  The problem was she didn’t seem to be slowing down.  As she got closer to the light, my heart sank as her engine roared in acceleration.  She was running the light!  Well, if she’s running the light then so was I.  I’m not missing this woman.

Unfortunately, after passing through the intersection I noticed the flashing lights, followed by the amplified voice of the officer directing us BOTH to pull over.  The three cars formed a line on the shoulder, hers in the front and mine in the middle.  When the officer walked up to my car I was practically grinning from ear to ear.  He wanted to know what was so “funny.”  I explained the situation to him, and proceeded to beg him not to give her a ticket.  After checking my license and registration, he went back to his car.  It seemed to take forever for him to come back with the ticket, but as long as she was still there, it didn’t really matter.  Finally, he came back and asked me to wait.  I watched him walk up to her car and start a conversation.  He gestured for me to come forward, and started walking toward me.  He approached me and said, “the lady would like to thank you for standing up for her.  I’m not supposed to do this but I will wait here a minute for everyone’s safety.”  Then he went back to his car. 

As I approached her car door, I could see her straightening her hair and puckering her lips to even out her lipstick.  She rolled down her window just enough for her to speak out of it.  She looked at me, smiled, and said, “I just wanted to thank you for what you did.  I really appreciate it.  Have a good night.”  Before I could even say a word, she rolled up the window, put the car in drive, and drove off.  I looked on in disbelief as she sped away, my body covered in waves of blue from the officer’s flashing lights.  Just as quickly as she’d left, the officer drove away, and I was left all alone of the side of the road.  I hadn’t gotten her phone number, or even her name!  I didn’t even have a chance to introduce myself.  Worst of all, every bit of dignity that I left home with that night had completely melted away.  How could my inner voice have been so very wrong?  What a damned cold night.

Get Off My Treadmill Miss Daisy!

Well I’m back after a bit of a hiatus.  I really didn’t want to write this story again after originally writing it back in the late 90’s.  After searching for it for this blog without any luck, I decided it was time for a re-write.  Thank God I was blessed with a good memory.  Now, on to the story.    

 When I moved to Atlanta back in 1998 I lived in a very nice high-rise condo building near Piedmont Park.   Even though my condo was less than 800 square feet, I loved living there.   I could walk to work, walk to restaurants, and even drop off my dry cleaning with the concierge.   One of the other nice benefits of the building was the fitness center.  It wasn’t very large, but it had just about everything you needed, including two treadmills.  Even though I wished there were more treadmills, I usually managed to get one on my morning visits.  On one particular morning I walked in and found that one of the treadmills was not working, and the other was being used.  “No worries,” I thought. I’ll just lift some weights until the treadmill was free.  Since there was only one working treadmill, I knew I had to keep a close eye on it to make sure I got on as soon as it was free.   So I’m working out and listening to my Discman while trying to keep my eye on the treadmill when this cute elderly white couple managed to sneak in on me.  To my dismay, the lady headed straight toward the treadmill!  Despite her age, she was much closer to the treadmill so there was no way I could get to it before she did.  I suppose I could have told her that I was waiting for the treadmill, but she was a cute little old lady, and I was taught to always respect the elderly.   I will admit that I wasn’t really happy about it, but I figured that “Miss Daisy” wouldn’t be on for very long.  As time passed, I found myself hovering around the treadmill, circling from time to time like a shark with its eye on some prey.  With the passage of more time, my thoughts and actions continued to spiral down the path to hell.  I started clearing my throat loudly, giving her the occasional evil eye, and calling her names under my breath.

My mood took a dramatic turn for the better when one of my favorite songs started playing, so I went back to the weights.  I turned the volume down a little so I could hear what was going on around me to make sure that I didn’t miss the treadmill again.  I was in the middle of a set of dumbbell curls when, out of nowhere, I heard this loud sneaker squeak (like the kind you hear on the basketball court) followed by an earth-shattering crash, combined with repeated cries of “oh God, oh God, oh dear God.”  Yes, Miss Daisy had fallen and couldn’t get up!  When I looked I couldn’t believe my eyes.  Poor Miss Daisy was wedged up against the wall behind the treadmill in the most awkward, contorted position you can possibly imagine.  She looked like she was playing Twister— lying on her neck, legs wide open, arms going in all directions, all while still mumbling “oh God, oh God, oh dear God.”  The visual and the sound of her voice still haunt me to this day.  I rushed over to her and I swear I almost blurted out in my best Morgan Freeman voice, “Is you alright Miss Daisy?” But no, I just did the right thing and made sure she was alright before helping her get up.  Unfortunately, she couldn’t get up right away.  She needed a couple of minutes to sit on the floor to gather herself and examine the various bumps and bruises.  After gathering herself, she looked at me and said, “thank you so much, you are so sweet.”  My eyes got as big as silver dollars as the guilt rushed in.  All I could think was “if she only knew” as I shamefully mumbled a quick "thank you."  I know that it really wasn't my fault that she fell, but deep down inside I felt responsible.   Fortunately, she was not seriously injured.  Needless to say, she did NOT get back on the treadmill.  In fact, sadly, I never saw her in the gym again.  I hope she wasn’t scarred for life.  Oh, and yes, after she and her husband left you know I got on the treadmill and got my 30 minutes in, but it was a real struggle because I just could not stop laughing at what I had just witnessed. 

Three Women and the Missing Nuts

When I was in high school I worked at the local public library.  During the summers I worked full-time and sometimes worked from 1:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m.  In the evenings the library was often empty after 8:15 or 8:30, so we started a routine of ordering sundaes from the nearby McDonald’s.  One night we sent Terri, another high school student, to get sundaes for the four of us who were working that night.  I ordered a caramel sundae with nuts, as I always did.  When Terri got back with the sundaes I was helping a patron at the front desk.  The three ladies were in the office talking and eating their sundaes.  When I finished at the front desk I walked into the office, excited that I could finally sit down and enjoy my sundae.  However, when I spotted the sundae, a look of disappointment overcame my face.  Without thinking twice, I immediately turned to Terri and blurted out, “AWWWW TERRI HOW COULD YOU FORGET MY NUTS?”  To this day, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a group a women laugh so hard and I’m fairly certain that I’ve never been more embarrassed.  But, hey, no one ever forgot my nuts after that night.    

If You Plan to Drink and Ride A Bicycle With a Passenger, Watch Out for Police Officers Who Try to Hold You Down When You're Doing Your Pushups

The Artistic Lawyer is back, finally. After missing the entire year of 2010 for some unknown reason, I am back with my first entry of 2011. But I must warn you---this one is a bit of a departure from the norm. Although there may some comical aspects of this entry, that is really not the point. So, are you ready? Ok, let’s get started.

Last night I had a pretty odd dream. I dreamed that I went to an elegant Black-tie event with a beautiful date. (That’s not the odd part, by the way). Here’s where it get’s strange. When we left the event, we hopped on my bicycle and pedaled off into the cool evening. Yes, a bicycle, and not one of those tandem bikes with two seats and two sets of pedals. There was only one seat on the bike and my date sat on it in her beautiful dress with her legs stretched out to the sides, and I had to stand on the pedals in my tuxedo, that is, when I wasn’t pumping the pedals to get us up some steep hill.

A few miles into the ride I noticed flashing flights. You guessed it, I was being pulled over for suspicion of drunk cycling and being unfit (i.e. too out-of-shape) to transport a passenger on a bicycle. In order to avoid being arrested I had to pass a physical exam, which consisted of doing 40 pushups. No problem, I thought. I dropped to the ground and started doing the pushups. Of course the officer thought there was no way I would make it to 40 so he started getting the handcuffs ready. Much to his surprise, I was blowing through the pushups with ease. As I got to the high 20’s I started to feel something on my back. The officer was beginning to push down on me as I pushed myself up. The more pushups I did, the harder he would push down. By the time I got to 35, he was practically sitting on me trying to keep me from finishing. By the end I was straining to lift the weight of two people, as my date stood watching and cheering me on. Despite the officer’s attempts, I made it!

As I thought about that dream today, I was struck by the differences between the two people who were with me. First there was my date, who was leaving a fancy event with me on a bicycle, a true ride-or-die friend. Obviously, she was someone who would stick with me no matter what the circumstances, and cheer me on during the tough times. Then I thought of the officer, who not only doubted that I could finish the task, but physically did everything within his power to keep me from finishing. The closer I got to the finish line, the harder he worked against me to keep me from making it! As I think about it, I was at an advantage because it was obvious that the officer was working against me so I knew what I had to do to overcome his efforts. Even so, he didn’t just jump on my back to try to stop me. He started with a little pressure and gradually increased the resistance as I got closer to finishing.

Unfortunately in life the people who work against us aren’t as obvious as the police officer. That makes them even more of a hindrance to our success because we don’t always recognize them or what they are doing. What’s worse is that we often push the ride-or-die friend out of our lives, while we let the police officers continue working against us. Oh, and one other thing---as much as the officer was ready to arrest me if I didn’t finish the pushups, he was just as quick to apologize and tell me how he knew I was going to make it all along. Sound familiar to anyone?

Excuse Me! This Is Not A GEICO Commercial!

I had just wrapped a meeting in Atlanta’s West End and got back in my car, heading toward I-20 East. It was only a matter of moments before I was cruising and listening to my favorite afternoon sports talk show. As I drove, I was distracted by some movement on or near my shoulder, which I barely noticed out of the corner of my eye. What could it be? A piece of lint? A fly? A spider? Surely it was nothing that a quick flick of the wrist couldn’t handle. Then came the quick flick of the wrist. Then came, well, utter shock. Turns out, it wasn’t a piece of lint, a fly or a spider; IT WAS A GEICO-COMMERCIAL LOOKING GREEN LIZARD!!!!!!! Now, mind you, I wasn’t really afraid of GEICO Jr., but I have to confess the shock of it startled the **** out of me—so much so that my body clenched up, causing me to accelerate and swerve into another lane of traffic. I really didn’t really care about the honks from the 18 wheeler whose path I had dangerously crossed into. I was more concerned about this f***ing creature in my car.

There it was. Sitting on the front passenger floor mat—chilling like it belonged there. There was nothing I could do about it. I was still driving. But I was NOT going to be denied. I was going to get GEICO Jr. out of my car—dead or alive. First, I had to get off the Interstate so I took the next exit. GEICO Jr. was still sitting there when I stopped in a parking lot of a strip mall. I looked around for something to use to get this thing out of the car. The only things within reach were some mail and a three-ring binder. Yes, the three-ring binder was going to get me out of this situation. I grabbed the binder and took a whack at the lizard. Success—or so I thought—I hit the lizard but not hard enough or in the right spot. But I did leave some damage; that little bastard was bruised all over the back. Yes, there had to be some damaged organs, internal bleeding, or something wrong with that little mf’er. Despite its injuries, it just scurried around the floor and eventually under the seat. I got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side to try to get rid of this thing. I moved the seat forward. The lizard ran to the back. So I moved to the back. I tried to guide GEICO Jr. out of the open door. No luck. The lizard wasn’t having any of it. I had no choice. I had to take another whack at the lightning quick creature. Damn it! Missed. Now it was under the seat again. So I slid the seat backward. GEICO Jr. ran to the front. But as soon as I got to the front of the car, my little tormentor ran under the seat. So I moved the seat forward and it ran back to the back. This went on for about three more times.

In the midst of all of this seat moving and lizard chasing, I picked up something else I didn’t really want—a spectator. It was a young man who was asked me if everything was ok. (I imagine it did look kind of crazy) I explained that I was trying to get a lizard out of my car. He looked at me, put his palm up (as if to tell me to talk to the hand) and said, “nah, bruh, I’ma let you handle dat.” I mumbled under my beath, “Fine, mf’r; I didn’t ask for your help anyway.” Unfortunately I did have to get out of there. I had another appointment to get to, about five minutes away. When I arrived I looked in the back and there was GEICO Jr., just sitting there. I had a clean shot. WHACK! Missed again. As I sit here typing this, I imagine GEICO Jr. is still sitting under the seat trying to recover from that bruised back. I’m sitting here trying to figure out how to get rid of my unwanted passenger. Should I buy some Raid and try to poison it or set a mousetrap (I don’t think there’s such a thing as a lizard trap and if there were what would you put in it?) or just try to wait him out? Suggestions, please? GEICO Jr. has got to go!

Never Spit on A Dying Rat

Other than Michael Jackson, most people I know hate rats, and understandably so. You can add my sister to the list of rat-haters thanks to a traumatic childhood experience. My two sisters and I were playing in our grandmother’s yard when we came across a big old country rat. The interesting thing was that something was clearly wrong with this rat. It was stretched out on the ground and breathing extremely fast, as if it had just run a marathon. For some unknown reason, seeing the rat in that condition really intrigued us. We all gathered around the rat, initially expecting it to get up and run but it just continued to lie there, with its breathing getting more and more labored. In our amateur veterinarian opinions, the rat was inching closer and closer to death.

Since the rat either didn’t notice us, didn’t care about us, or couldn’t do anything about us, my youngest sister decided to play around with it a little. She found a long stick in the yard and took it over to the rat. Of course, I was trying to figure out what she was about to do. Then she took the stick and poked the rat in its side. The right’s body moved a bit, but otherwise there was no reaction; just more heavy breathing. At that point, we were convinced that the rat was completely harmless and would meet its demise in that spot in the yard. We even thought about having a rat funeral. Then my sister decided to get a little bolder. She slowly inched closer to the rat and took her foot and nudged the rat gently. Again, the rat’s body moved a bit but otherwise there was no reaction; just more heavy rat breathing. Then she started leaning over the rat. A big wad of spit fell from my sister’s mouth directly between the rat’s eyes, splattering all over its face. Without warning, the rat sprung to life and made a bee-line straight toward my sister. Almost as quickly, my sister, panicked by the sudden turn of events, turned and started running away from the rat. The rat proceeded to chase her for about 100 feet before it veered off toward the woods. To this day, the sight of that rat chasing my sister remains one of the funniest things I have ever seen. But it raised the question of why it took the spit to piss off the rat and make it spring to life. Being a thinker, I tried to put myself inside the rat’s mind. All I could come up with was: “you can kick me, or even hit me with a stick, but if you spit on me, that’s your ass!” You’ve been warned. Govern yourself accordingly.

When You Gotta Go, Don't Go There!

Sometimes in everyday life you stumble across a classic comical moment. I was at an auto repair shop when I walked by the restroom to go to the waiting area. I saw the funniest sign ever on the door. It read, "NO NUMBER 2's. NUMBER 1's ONLY!"