ARTWORK BY ESTES=WOOLWORTHS
`````I guess I can consider this my companion piece to the blog of the other day. This one took place on Granville Street which was the other part of town. It also occurred many years ago, as these things are apt to do. I was due to meet a friend of mine at some club, I believe, and had stopped first to grab a diet pop at some divey sort of restaurant near it. I had picked up one of the free local music rags and was reading it.
`````At the time, this part of Granville featured strip clubs, bad rental hotels, kink shops (think the stereotypical guy in a trenchcoat with a penchant for heavy breathing) and a movie theatre called "The Kitten". Within a few blocks it also featured several great clubs for those who liked alternative music.
`````I knew that my friend Brenda would be late; it went without saying that she would make her grand entrance and look fabulous doing it. So, I decided grab a muffin, and kill some time before heading over for out rendez-vous. You see, I was always early.
`````Unfortunately, I had to use the washroom. There was one at the rear of the restaurant, located by the door to the back-alley. Given the size of the place, it was one small room. I locked the door (or I thought I did, as you shall see). It was very loud back there, as the kitchen was immediately beside the washroom, and there was music blaring in the cafe.
`````I never heard the two guys enter.
`````When I walked out of the stall, there were two males in the washroom. They were more startled to see me, as was immediately apparent by their faces. They had a gym duffle bag on the counter and in one instant I could tell that it was full of cocaine. The zipper was undone the entire length of the bag, revealing the contents. In the movies the drug dealers always carry fancy brief cases. That would definitely have been out of place in this restaurant and in this part of town, especially if these two characters had been carrying it.
`````They had been speaking French, and ceased doing so the minute I stepped out of the stall. I hesitated for a second and I thought to myself,
`````"This is how people disappear." I looked at them and I thought that I have to act normal, or else this is going to go bad. They were still looking at me; in fact, they had never dropped eye contact.
`````"Oh, excuzez-moi. J'ai pense que c'etait la salle de bain pour les femmes." I stammered, trying to recall my French and acting casual as I did a quick glance in the mirror and brushed my hair back. I kept looking at my face and not the bag which was loaded with what seemed to be all of the gross national product of Bolivia. I know it's repulsive, but this time I skipped washing my hands and I walked at a normal pace by the two men, who were still staring at me. I've heard the term used often, but now I learned what it meant---the term "the hair stood up on the back of my neck." I kept walking and I expected at any minute to cease all feeling as something came down on the back of my skull and I was dragged out the back door and into the alley.
`````Nothing happened. I went back to my table, sat down, and proceeded to continue reading my paper and drink my pop, just as though this event had not taken place.
`````Yes, my Diet Pepsi addiction has led me into some dark places.
I had something similiar to that happen to me. Instead it was outside of my HS, I had made the mistake of looking towards the trunk of a car that a bunch of known druggies were standing around. The car's owner (some creep in his 30's or so) saw me jumped in the car and drove off. Some of the kids starting to yell at him to come back. I doubled it all the way home. And double timing it is hard for a fat girl.
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