The first time I traveled alone, I ended up in Hollywood, California at a club where the hair was tall and the dresses were short and the guys were wearing more eyeliner then the girls.
I was wearing a pair of Calvins a lavender cashmere sweater and motorcycle boots- in those days I didn’t wear a lot of makeup so all in all I felt under dressed.
Didn’t bother me though, back in my young day I didn’t care if I fit in or not and for all of my issues seeking approval from strangers wasn’t high on my ‘ to do list of life’.
So back to the Club.
I was on my way to the restroom, which was the most sketchy, weirdest walk I have ever taken in my life. It was like someone walked around the entire planet twice and found the highest, drunken, horniest people walking the earth and lined them up in that hall.
No doubt, that hall was a hundred miles long, it was like being in one of those dreams where you run and run and no matter what you do you move slow and the something that is chasing you is just about to reach out and touch your shoulder.
Actually, in my dreams it’s about to rip my head off but I digress.
After about a million years I make it to the bathroom, I push the door open and there on the floor sitting against the only free stall is a guy with a needle in his arm.
He looks up at me.
” Hey. Like. I can’t get this thing out.”
I look down at him.
” Man. It’s like stuck or something. Is it supposed to do that?”
” I’m no Doctor, but I’d say no.”
I didn’t want to touch the needle, I didn’t want to touch him, but God, I had to use the bathroom.
I reach down, grab him by his collar drag him to the sink, pull the needle out toss it in the sink and make for the stall. I get in there and I hear him crawl back and I hear this thump.
Great. He just passed out against the door.
And that stall, oh God, it was the grimiest place in the Universe I have ever been in. No way was I going to use that thing and I am trapped in there. I would have pounded my forehead against the stall wall or door in frustration but my survival instincts were in high gear and I didn’t.
I open the door, he falls in and I grab the frame above the door and swing myself over him and almost hit the sink.
Did I run from that club and head for LAX and the safety of Seattle?
I strolled up to the bar, treated myself to a drink and eventually braved the hall and made it to the bathroom.
Needle man was passed out in the middle of the floor.
He was breathing, so I stepped over him and held my breath and tried to use the bathroom without touching anything around me.
The list of things that could have gone wrong that night could fill a thing we used to have called a telephone book.
They were big and full of words.
So, that night which was a dangerous adventure of sorts- don’t do stuff like that.
I was lucky.
I probably tapped the luck well dry that night and if I had to do it over again I’d have used that kind of luck to win the lottery or something.
That’s my advice, if you’re going to kick fate in its teeth make it worthwhile. Make it count. Don’t waste that kick in a place where your feet stick to the floor and you have to pull needles out of a junkie’s arm.
Ride a roller coaster with the seat belt off or with it tied around your waist because it busted during the ride.
Now that is an adventure worth having.
Trust me on that.