Random guy encounter story #1....

I was going through old photos looking for a photo I had of my cousin who died this past spring of Cirrhosis of the liver. Apparently this is an issue in my family as a few members suffered from liver issues including the "C" word.

Anyway, I found a photo from back in the day...the late 1980s ala "Goldbergs" era...1980 something.

This is a photo taken of two guys stuffed in an old school photo booth, one sitting back acting like he lives the "thug" life and the other young man actually showing the "thug" life by displaying his middle or as I like to say displaying his "DRIVING FINGER."

You know; the FU finger....which is funny as I never see anyone using their "DRIVING FINGER" as they just yell "HEY FAT 'B' WORD; MOVE YOUR DANG CAR!" Or they honk the heck outta me....

So, as I looked at the picture my younger sister asked about it and was laughing because....well, come on! Two dudes stuffed in a photo booth? and "Flip them the bird" from "Good Morning Vietnam" style? It's funny...because it's so tacky to "flip someone off." It's also so ten minutes ago, y'know?

Anyway...

I met this guy as I was leaving a night club on a Tuesday night.

Don't judge me...I was 21, single, an RN, no kids or husband or dog. I worked my butt off in the ER and at times aside from my crazy early morning workouts I worked part time at a night club as a bartender but I liked punker, new wave, metal, grunge and alternative as it's known now.

I hung out at the club for a bit but there was absolutely almost no one there accept for a couple of guys, a server and a bartender.

After hearing "Panic" by The Smiths and singing "hang the DJ, hang the DJ," I decided to split and just wanted to go home.
As I was leaving this dude came up to me saying "doesn't it suck when there's no one at the club?"

I gave him a bit of the "stink eye" but being a nice person yet cautious of any "random guy" coming up to me as; well, come one, yo! I'm a single girl, eh?

"Yeah, it's weird how empty it is, but it IS a Tuesday, a weird day to hit the clubs anyway, eh?"

He nods, agrees then as I walk away saying "good night" he asks "where are you going?"

"Home, dude," I reply, walking south on Clark to go home.

"Where's your car?"

"I don't have a car, I"m walking."

He looked a bit surprised and asked, "how far do you live?"

I replied, "LaSalle and Maple."

He was shocked, asking "YOU'RE GOING TO WALK ALL THE WAY TO LASALLE AND MAPLE FROM CLARK FULLERTON?"

"Uhhh...yes?"

Now dig this; back in the day when I was a spring chicken I WALKED everywhere...I mean it! I was in awesome shape, a size 5 in clothes, so, it was not a big deal to walk to Lake and State from Water Tower Place, or Northwestern where I worked later but worked at Illinois Masonic Hospital and have walked home from Wellington to Lasalle and Maple....and when I moved to Berwyn I would take the Blue Line to Oak Park and walk down Oak Park Avenue all the way to Cermak....so walking for half an hour which is how long it took me to walk from this club which I've done many times. You see; everyone is afraid of Chicago thinking it's completely full of thugs that just come up to random guys or girls and shoot them. I love my city, I love to walk especially when it's nice; I can just pop my headphones on and play my CD Walkman listening to my tunes.

I was not afraid to walk down Clark or Sedgewick to go home to my apartment on LaSalle.

"Look guy," I do this all the time when it's nice outside...I have protection(mace and a knife), I know the area well, I'm not a tourist or an idiot. So...there."

He gives me a thoughtful look and says "well, I may be a punker according to straights like you, but I'm a gentleman. I'd like to walk you home if I may."

I was taken aback as...well, this dude with spiked hair and wearing a black biker jacket, a "SMITHS" T- torn jeans with safety pins place strategically in various areas of ripped material, Sharpee writings of "SEX PISTOLS, NAKED RAYGUN, SKINNY PUPPY" all written on one jean leg and "SID FOREVER" on the other in HUGE letters. Plus, his facial expression did show genuine concern, which really touched me. It's like when you see some big old tough Butch guy cuddling a puppy.

THAT'S what his face looked like....yes; like he was about to cuddle a puppy stuck in a cage at the Anti-Cruelty Society.

I relented, then started walking Clark and motioning to him and saying "well, come on then."

He followed me, walking south on Clark street talking about his life. He had it hard; his parents were never around, he was a "latch key kid" which is the expression they used to use back in the day for kids like us who are the product of single moms, dads or two working parents trying to make ends meet and can't be home when the kids get out of school...so we wore our keys for the house around our necks....usually. I cannot count how many times I've lost my key which was on a string.

Yes, a string! That broke....often....so often, dang I've had so many kids in my class help me when I lived in Logan Square. Southies weren't as helpful when we relocated...but that's a different story.

Anyway, we walked. talked about we did for a living...he worked a forklift at a warehouse, he was impressed that this "HOT" punk aficionado of the fine music of "Screeching Weasel, The Smiths, Black Flag, Dead Kennedys, Front 242, Siouxie and the Banchees, the Pretenders," and other "alternative" bands had a genuine career with a college degree. "I usually meet strippers, bouncers, mechanics, brick layers...people like that. Working class folks who are real...and for being a college girl with a degree, working to save lives...you're very real. You're not fake, phoney, stuck up. You are real, nice."

I laughed and told him thanks and turned down Lincoln to Wells, and walked...and talked. We then meandered onto Menomonee Street, then down to Sedgwick and just enjoyed the view as well as the conversation. We "oohed" and "aaah" as we walked through the "Foo-Foo" area and the majestic brick homes and talked about brick laying and how we should have walked down Clark to see where the St. Valentine's murder occurred but just walked on.o

The conversation turned to girlfriend who was not as attentive as he'd like as she blew him off often using excuses that he knew weren't true. So, he was thinking of breaking up with her as it aggravating and he was getting sick of it.

We finally arrived at LaSalle and Maple, near my apartment. We bid farewell and I thanked him for being such a gentleman. He reluctantly said good-bye and I had a feeling he wanted to ask me out; but I had a boyfriend which came up during our walk He let out a big sigh grabbed me, hugged and picked me up saying "bear hug from Bear! Thank you for your time...and if I ever see you again will you promise not to say anything about my love for Simon and Garfunkel, especially if I have friends with me?"

I laughed against his shoulder and said, "yes dude. I promise not to mention how the song "The Boxer" almost always makes you want to cry." He cracked up, then handed me a photo of him with some guy. It was one of those tiny photo booth pics of Bear with his Puerto Rican and Polish friend whom he referred to as "Skee."

"Just a little something small and funny to remember me by....and know that random weird guys like other music, like Simon and Garfunkel, and Frankie Valli, and Cyndi Lauper."

I laughed, feeling the exhaustion I tried to forget after working ten hours in the ER creep up on me which I usually ignored; but for some reason it was hitting me hard. Maybe it was having that long walk with a nice random guy and just talking about a whole bunch of nothing or a lot of something. I hope I made his evening as he actually made mine and reaffirmed my belief about judging a book by it's cover. You never know who's under that Mohawk, wearing those combat boots with Tattoos all over their body get judged..and judged badly.

And that really bothers me.

I know its different as I'm different and really hate the labels everyone puts on anyone who deviates from normality. This is not "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" or "Stepford Wives." It's incredible to see different individuals express themselves with their hair, body, what they wear...etc....

So Bear leaves, and I turn the photo over to see if he wrote anything on the back and...he did!

His name, his buddy "Skee's" name....and

Oh, yes...a few "F" bombs.

The picture also had him flipping the bird. Flashing the "Driving Finger."

I sighed, shook my head and laughed watching Bear leave. I didn't judge him at all.

And I'm STILL not judging....just laughing and remember how much fun I had just walking and talking.