"Well well well, what have we got here..."
Do you guys remember the police lady from my Notting Hill Carnival escapade? Well, people have been asking me for an update and all I told them was just twenty percent of what happened that night. Now I've decided to give you all the full story but first, here's reminder...
Okay, now that your memory has been refreshed, allow me to proceed and tell you what happened next. You will not believe it.
As you might know, London is one huge metropolis with over seven million inhabitants. What are the chances that you'll ever run into the same stranger twice? Zero, if you ask me.
After the lady and I had agreed to meet up at a certain curry house in Islington that Thursday, I still couldn't believe the circumstances that had led to me being there. It was still fresh and raw in my mind. My ever-mischievous mates S and J couldn't belive it as well. "Son, you really out did yourself this time." S said in a voice that could only be used as approval from a proud teacher to his student while patting my back.
The days zipped by and sooner rather than later, Thursday was here. We had agreed to meet at 7.30 pm, front of house. Dress casual. Nothing fancy. I was as nervous as a nun in a stripclub.
After an hour's wait, I soon realised that yours truly had been stood up. What a sucker! Now at this point you are wondering why I didn't ask for her number then. Well, the answer to your question is I just didn't. Give me a break. I was pissed off my head and such minor details like TAKING YOUR DATE'S NUMBER seemed like a waste of time then. After all, she had agreed to meet. Correct? Wrong!!!
I gathered the little that was left of my dignity and left; but not without first settling a hefty thirty pound booking fee (can you say daylight robbery?) on an empty stomach coz I had suddenly lost my appetite and moods. Wouldn't you?
So I decided to drown my sorrows by getting on the tube and heading over to Liecester Square Odeon to catch a movie (preferably one where a cop gets it in the head by some drug dealer...) anything to make me hate cops. Right? Sounds more like sour grapes to me.
There was nothing on that fitted my criteria. I thought about calling S and J but then decided not to coz I would never hear the end of it plus it was a weekday and they probably wouldn't want to go on a bender in the middle of the week. There would be hell to pay big time for their transgressions from their better halves...(J's girl is no joke. You don't want to cross her).
With that in mind, I headed over to Soho in search of a party. Now, this part of town is well known for that and for sure I was not disappointed when I got into one of our usual hangouts. The music was on point, as always, the atmosphere, electric and the crowd, well, the crowd was to say the least...unusual. Not the regular bunch. This made me question whether I had come to the right place. I'm was sure I had. At least geographically it was. But then the crowd???
I ambled over to the bar in search of something strong, and no sooner had I leaned over the counter to order my drink than I felt a hand on my behind asking how I was doing. More like cooing..."how you doing big boy?"
said the masculine/feminine-imitation-sleepy voice. On turning around, I was greeted by what I can only describe as a man fully dressed and made up in female clothing. Better known as a cross dresser.
Damn. I had forgotten that Thursday nights in this place are for those of a 'special persuasion'. Now Before I go any further, I would like to point out that I'm not homophobic in any way. I just don't get down like that. If you get my drift. Not my thing so to speak.
With shock written all over my face, I literally run out of the joint, up the stairs onto street level. Phew! That was wierd. I had heard of stories from acquaintances and workmates about being hit on by men dressed as women but until you personally experience it, ya never know.
So, I decided to call it a night and head home by hailing a cab. An hour later, I was at my door. Time to pay the fare and get to bed. Not that easy. Why? Because my it seems my wallet was missing! That bloody man dressed as a woman in Soho had pinched it by prentending to hit on me! Yeah, you better believe it. It was gone. And to make matters worse, the bloody cabbie wouldn't allow me to go upstairs and get the money from my house saying it had happened to him many times before whereby people would say this and not come back. Fair enough, but still I needed to get a move on.
Before I knew what was happening, I was locked in and he was on the phone to the police. Minutes later, a squad car showed up. "Well well well, what have we got here?" the officer inquired. "How much was his fare,sir?" "Fourty five pounds." I was escorted to my door so as to get the money and back. " Have a good night. Drive safe."
What a night. The takeaway from this story is:
1. Paid thirty pounds for an empty stomach (talk about extortion).
2. Got gropped AND PICKPOCKETED BY A MAN DRESSED AS A WOMAN in a dingy Soho boozzer.
3. Held hostage by a cabbie that called the cops on me.
Man, I love this town.
Now, J and S have never known what transpired that night until they read this today coz my lips have been sealed till now that I decided to share with you my night from hell. All I've been telling anyone that asks is, "she stood me up." But there was more and I hope your curiosity has been well served.