Wednesday, January 04, 2006

The Legendary Mother Of The House Of Baggage

US Airways Baggage Claims Office, LaGuardia

I'm second in line behind a tall elegant black man. He's wearing a black full-length leather coat, something you don't see every day. He explains to the clerk that he's missing three, "that's THREE", very expensive, "that's EXPENSIVE", Louis Vuitton suitcases with irreplaceable, "that's IRREPLACEABLE" items in them. Every time he repeats himself, he slaps his hand on the counter.

The clerk is a short, raven-haired, gum-popping, LaVerne DeFazio sound-a-like. "Louis? Ya mean like real Louis? Or some...udder brand?"

"I beg your pardon? You think because I'm black that I've got some swap shop Louis Vuitton? Don't even try that shit with me, Miss Girl."

The clerk regarded him with a flat expression. "Sir, we get lotsa luggage brands every day. Some a'dem is real. A lot a'dem ain't. Nuttin' against you."

"Why don't I believe you?"

The clerk made some clicks on her keyboard. "I'll need to know the contents of ya bags."

"Why?"

"Cuz maybe your bags didn't get here cuz they got no tags. Sometimes they gotta open the bag to see if the contents match the claim report."

"They have clothing in them."

The clerk purses her lips in doubt. "Irreplaceable clothing? What kind?"

(Inaudible)

"What?"

(Louder, but still inaudible)

"Sir, I can't hear you."

The man throws his hands up. "Ball gowns. Ball. Gowns. All three of them are full of ball gowns, OK?" He turns to give me a defiant look, as if daring me to say something, but I just raise my eyebrows slightly.

The clerk, now wearing a Mona Lisa smile, shoots a sideways glance at her co-worker. "OK, got it. Ball gowns in all three. Where do ya want 'em delivered?"

The man gives her an address in Harlem and stalks out. I'm still wondering which house he might belong to, when the clerk tells me that my one bag, full of non-expensive, non-irreplaceable, non-gowns is definitely in Pittsburgh or Charlotte. Unless it's in Dayton.

A few minutes later I'm in my taxi and as it approaches the Tri-Borough Bridge I come alongside a taxi bearing Mr. Ball Gown. We move into parallel toll lanes and he glares at me the entire time our vehicles inch forward. I stare back without expression until we both accelerate out of the toll booth. That's when I give him a big ole wink. As my taxi veers left and his fades off to the right, I can still see him laughing.

.

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

Miami Patrick

I often run into JMG readers while I'm out living my glamorous high profile life. VIP, velvet ropes, guest lists, kiss kiss. This handsome man is Patrick, from Miami, whom I ran into at Fort Lauderdale's Jackhammer bar, conveniently located in the glamorous high profile section of Crack Town. Patrick is especially fond of the Terrence series and said some very kind things, for which I thank him.

I usually have my little digicam in my back pocket, so if YOU, gentle reader, happen to spot me at your local bistro, watering hole or bail bondsman, please do introduce yourself and pose for a pic to be posted here.

(BTW, for those wondering what happened to my facial hair...THIS is what happens when you forget to pack your own clippers and borrow someone else's and forget to check the adjustable length setting. Hellooooo baldy!)

.

Sunday, January 01, 2006

Overheard In Fort Lauderdale

The Ramrod

Leatherman: "Is there anything more depressing than wasting $50 and 4 hours of your Saturday night.... and the hottest person at the baths is YOURSELF?"


Bill's Filling Station

Bear #1: "Honey, nobody has seen you in forever! You are looking so great! Everybody's saying so!"

Bear #2: "Thank you! You're so sweet! It's because I've been a slave for almost two years now, and I'm so happy with my Master. It's so freeing when you finally belong somewhere."

Bear #1: "And that would be chained to the bed, I assume?"


Coliseum

Twinkie: (waving money at the muscular bartender) "Hey, there! Hello? Please tell me you love me. I need somebody to love me right now!"

Bartender (straining to hear over music): "WHAT? You need what?"

Twinkie: "I need you to love me!"

Bartender: "I don't even know you. How could I love you?"

Twinkie: "What do you need to know?"

Bartender: "How old are you?"

Twinkie: "I just turned 18!"

Bartender: "Hello, my love."


Coliseum

Patron in the bathroom line: "Man! This party has been amazing! All these hot circuit boys! And it's already 4AM and they haven't had to call a SINGLE ambulance!"

Other patron: "Give it time, honey. Give it time."


Club Steel

Bartender to customer: "I'm having a problem with your boyfriend, in the liking department."


Jackhammer

Drunk guy: "Hey man, your friend is so fucking hot. You gotta hook us up!"

Other guy: My friend? Which one?

Drunk guy: I don't care!


Coliseum

Guy At Bar: "How come you haven't been dancing? You're not digging the music?"

Other Guy: "Um...I think we could probably put the last three hours of music on a disc, take it down to Guantanamo, broadcast it over the prison PA.... and we'd have those Al Qaedas begging to confess."

(Disclosure: I am Other Guy.)


The Ramrod

Customer: "Hey can you play a song for me? I heard it on the radio today and it totally rocks."

DJ: "What's it called?"

Customer: "Well, I don't the name of it, but you've got to have it. It's by a black girl and it's about love.