Golf & Junkies

Today I was standing outside my townhouse, out on the sidewalk. I was heading out to play a round of golf with my friend Dave.

I stood outside for ten, maybe fifteen minutes total. At about the five-minute mark, I see out of the corner of my eye, a lady walking up the street. She was completely nondescript. Hair in a ponytail, sweatshirt, jeans and sneakers. She walked up the block and stopped and sat down on one of the planters in front of the community room.

I’m leaning against the fence, about ten feet from my front door, with my golf bag next to me. I’m messing around on Facebook until Dave picks me up in his silver tank — truck.

While I randomly click “Like” on everyone’s food, cat and Halloween pictures I can feel this lady staring at me. Deep down, I can’t blame I am a sexy beast, but it wasn’t that kind of staring. I glance over and she gets up, staggers and starts walking towards me. The voice in my head is going, “Fuck, go away, leave me alone.”

Sure enough, she ends up standing, swaying in front of me.

“Hey, you got any money?”

“No.”

“You holding?”

“What?”

“We could do a little exchange?

“Look, I’m not understanding you. I got nothing, no money.’

I wasn’t being a dick. Honest to god, I couldn’t make out her slurring.

I step away, and get back to my Facebook browsing. Then it occurs to me, “holding” and “exchange.” She thought I was a dealer and she was going to bang me for dope. Damn, I knew I should have shaved this morning.

Another five minutes go by. The lady starts staring over at me again. And again, she starts staggering over. This time her words are slurred worse than before.

“Gotta use the bathroom.”

“Head up the block to one of the restaurants.”

“Restaurants? Come on.”

“I can’t help you.”

“I need a peak.”

“Look, I don’t know what you want and I don’t know what the hell you’re saying.”

She gives me this look like I’m an idiot, “You don’t?’

This pissed me off pretty bad. You can’t talk, you can’t walk and you think I’m either a dealer or a pimp and you have the nerve to look at me like I’m an idiot.

“You know what? Get the fuck outta here.”

I move another six feet down the sidewalk. She staggers back to the planter outside the community room.

I do a little texting, she starts staring again. Just in time Dave pulls up.

#michaelessington #bornfrustrated

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