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April 06, 2005
Strange Dates Pt 1
Around the corner from my house a burned out building stands testament to Highlandtown's once-proud days as the cultural mecca of Baltimore City.
By culture I mean heavy metal, death metal and occassionally punk rock. And by Baltimore City I mean only those neighborhoods without a rock club of their own. Namely Highlandtown and the surrounding bergs of Essex and Dundalk.
Yes, the twice-burned out shell of a building to which the Hal Daddy's sign still clings was once a hot spot. Four nights a week with bands two of those nights.
It was one of those off nights when I was sitting at the bar slamming 50 cent happy hour Natty Bohs when a David Bowie song came blaring out of the juke box.
"What is this shit? Did you play it?"
"It's David Bowie."
"Did you play it?" The guy next to me asked. Earlier he'd been telling the bartender about the $350,000 boat he owned but kept in North Carolina, and I think his denying knowing the song was by Bowie was part of the stupid-liar-tough-guy act he was putting on for her. It was a fairly well known song that I actually sort of liked Still, that doesn't mean I'll stand by and let myself be accused of playing a Bowie song on the jukebox.
"No."
"I saw you play something."
"Yeah. I played the Zombies, Rev. Horton Heat and ... something else."
"This shit."
"I didn't play this shit."
"I did."
We both turned and to look at the girl on my other side. "I play it."
"Why?"
"Cuz I like it. Got a problem with that?"
The other guy backed out of the conversation. I don't think he wanted the bartender to see him talking to another woman. He had spent all that mental energy on the outlandish stories of his greatness, I'm sure he didn't want all that effort to go to waste.
"I wouldn't say a problem, but I don't really like it."
"Well what did you play then?"
We kept talking. In the course of the discussion I insulted her taste in music and several other things, but still she told me she might want to go see Caustic Resin at Fletcher's in the not too distanct future. Then she left.
It was only after her friend came back (by my drunken estimate) 15 minutes later and gave me a piece of paper that said "ALI 410 687 3500" (and that might even be the right number) that I realized I didn't know what the girl looked like, her name -- thankfully it was written on the paper -- or anything else about the girl.
"Ali wanted you to have this."
"Ok."
I had no idea why she wanted me to have her number, but I took it and kept on with my drinking.
A few days later I found the number in my pocket. Ali. Ali. Who was that?
Oh yeah. It's the Bowie girl. I decided to call to see if she wanted to meet up and see Caustic Resin, but as I finished dialing and heard the first ring I realized I didn't know how I'd recognize the her if we ran into each other.
I started to worry. Is she ugly? Maybe hot? I hope hot. But I won't recognize her. Should I have her pick me up? I live pretty close. I kept thinking until I heard the answering machine click on.
"This is Ali. We're not home right now. Leave a message."
Clearly it was a joke. I had either called a man named Ali or Ali was a transvestite. For a second or two I deliberated leavign a message. I decided that Ali probably had a male friend leave her outgoing message because she was single and paranoid. It made total sense.
The day after I saw the show I proposed Ali meet me at I got a call. "How's it going? How'd you like the show last night?"
I was completely freak out. I couldn't imagine how some guy got my number and knew I had been to a show the night before.
"...Ah. Ok?"
"Sorry I couldn't make it."
What? Who is this? "Aah. It's ok."
"Well. You seemed pretty cool when I met you at Hal's," It's that girl, Ali. Why dodes she sound like a man? "I was thinking we should hang out some time."
"Yeah. Sure."
"It seems you like the dive bars. Iused to live in Highlandtown. You want me to show you a few of the dive bars down that way?"
"Yeah, that'd be cool."
We talked for a few more minutes while I racked my brain. Did she sound this much like a man in person? Is she maybe a transvestite? We made date for a week or two off. I suggested we meet at Hal's because no one was ever in there, and she'd probably see me. I thougt it best that was because I'd never see, and recognize, her. She wanted instead to meet me at my house, which I also decided would be fine. If she knocked I'd definitely know who she was.
On the day I was supposed to meet her a car pulled up outside of my house. That's her. I grabbed my stuff and headed for the door. But it wasn't her. It was a chubby little latino guy. "Hey, Brian?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm Ali's friend Alex. Let's go."
"What?"
"She's in the car."
Alex was most definitely her gay friend. I figured he was a body guard. "OK."
Alex jumped in front and I climbed in back and tried to find enough room in the back. There was a child seat in the middle.
"Hey, Ali."
"Hey, Brian. You ever go to Gallagher's? It's a lesbian bar. It's not too divey, but we can go to a good dive from there."
"No." Maybe this girl is a man. She sounds like a man. She brings a gay guy with her and takes me out to a lesbian bar. Could be. "I haven't been there yet."
"It's just down the street. -- Oh. Do you have enough room back there? I forgot to take Chloe's seat out."
"I can fit."
"Chloe's my 2 year old. -- You don't like Bowie. Want to play anything else? I've got my CDs back there."
"I don't mind Bowie."
"Oh. I thought you -- whatever. Give me NWA. I used to play that all the time when I lived down here."
"Here, you go. -- When did you live in Highlandtown?"
"I lived here with my second husband."
Second husband? "Where?"
"On Potomac St. It was the first house I owned."
Second husband? First house she owned? How old is this woman? "First house? How many have you owned?"
"This is just my second. I guess it just feels like so long ago."
"Well, you must have bought your first house when you were pretty young."
"I was probably older than you are now."
"What? How old do you think I am?"
"Maybe 22."
"No. 26."
"Woah. How old do you think I am? I definitely shouldn't be going out with you."
How old is she? She's pretty hot and she looks like she could be 28 - 29, but that's not too old. Am I supposed to guess higher? No. Never guess too high. "27 or 28?"
"Try 31."
"That's not that old."
"What do you mean? 'Not that old.'"
"I mean you're close to my age."
"Girl! That means he wants to fuck you."
Posted by calculatoronfire at April 6, 2005 12:37 AM
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