What a weird night...
A black woman walks into the Skylark, my neighborhood pub, where I'm having a pint and waiting for Jose. She is upset -- she tells the bartender was just robbed by her sister and doesn't know where she is or what to do to find her, and could she use the phone. The bartender doesn't believe her and won't let her use the phone, so she leaves. I think nothing of it and continue with my pint and the new Chicago Reader...
Two hours later, I leave and head for my car, and this woman is outside in the rain, crying. She sees me, waves frantically at me because I am now familiar to her, and then my heart just sinks -- I notice she's pretty pregnant.
She's trying to tell me her story, trying to give me gas money if I at least got her to her hotel, and then I realize...
Fuck, she's telling the TRUTH and she is NOT a crack whore looking to score (there are a lot in this hood and dont fault the bartender for not knowing the difference).
We call the police from my cell. Story checks out -- they had just arrested her sister for trying to score drugs. Cops tell me they will meet her at the hotel to get more info and ask if she wants to bring up charges.
I drive her back downtown to her hotel and we let the night manager know the police are coming to speak with her. She still tries to give me money. I give her a little money so she can get some breakfast in the morning (she's pregnant, yo). I am sad for her -- she is not from here (lives in a small town in MN and came here to bury her mother) and was so hurt by her sister's actions.
So there it is -- my evening tonight. I hope my husband isn't too angry that I slipped into the house at 1:30 -- I really did have a good reason to be delayed...
Happy holidays, everyone.
A black woman walks into the Skylark, my neighborhood pub, where I'm having a pint and waiting for Jose. She is upset -- she tells the bartender was just robbed by her sister and doesn't know where she is or what to do to find her, and could she use the phone. The bartender doesn't believe her and won't let her use the phone, so she leaves. I think nothing of it and continue with my pint and the new Chicago Reader...
Two hours later, I leave and head for my car, and this woman is outside in the rain, crying. She sees me, waves frantically at me because I am now familiar to her, and then my heart just sinks -- I notice she's pretty pregnant.
She's trying to tell me her story, trying to give me gas money if I at least got her to her hotel, and then I realize...
Fuck, she's telling the TRUTH and she is NOT a crack whore looking to score (there are a lot in this hood and dont fault the bartender for not knowing the difference).
We call the police from my cell. Story checks out -- they had just arrested her sister for trying to score drugs. Cops tell me they will meet her at the hotel to get more info and ask if she wants to bring up charges.
I drive her back downtown to her hotel and we let the night manager know the police are coming to speak with her. She still tries to give me money. I give her a little money so she can get some breakfast in the morning (she's pregnant, yo). I am sad for her -- she is not from here (lives in a small town in MN and came here to bury her mother) and was so hurt by her sister's actions.
So there it is -- my evening tonight. I hope my husband isn't too angry that I slipped into the house at 1:30 -- I really did have a good reason to be delayed...
Happy holidays, everyone.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
cornink:
crazy story. 
josearcadio:
wow, what a story 