WASHINGTON D. C.
At the time, I believe I was a mere 17 or 16 years of age in DC, walking up
14th street with an impending hangover lurking in my cerebellum. My
friend/ride had ditched me to go get some play and I was feeling a bit on
the worthless side of things since I wasn't sure I'd make the last train
back to the cozy confines of my suburban refuge.
A few helpful facts:
1 A whole bunch of wine (I think maybe for the first time)
2 A whole bunch of reefer for the millionth time.
3 The hookers in DC are beautiful.
Right. So 14th is the strip for picking up the professional ladies and
these women are (or at least were) very vocal about what they're doing,
striking poses on the sidewalk. They're chatting me up as I stumble along,
giggling to myself and trying to be respectful of these generous ladies who
are affording me so much attention.
Sex is on the brain and in my toe nails and in my back-pack and the goddamn
I get through the strip and head west toward the train. About now my
stomach is making its presence known. "Hey, Fucker!" 'Okay, I'll take care
of you, sweety, just let me find somewhere to expel inconspicuously'.
So I find an alley to vomit in, a great alley as it turns out. In this
particular alley, completely oblivious to my retching into a dumpster, was a
couple making out passionately perched atop the adjacent dumpster.
They were both male. One wore an Abraham Lincoln costume, complete with
phony beard and stove pipe hat. The other donned a tricked out Uncle Sam
outfit, stars-and-stripes bellbottoms for christ's sake!
We only noticed each other after I had finished puking and they were taking
a breather from face fucking one another. I think all three parties wiped
their/our mouths at the same time then sort of stared at one another. I
gave a weak wave and (Honest!) they simultaneously blew kisses at me. For
the tenth time that night I blushed and giggled.
Made it on home, more pleased than I would have ever imagined.
- Benjamin Redgrave