Yesterday I was walking by Hudson River Park. It had been a long week. Sunday I had one gig in Port Jeff and one gig in Yonkers all in the same day. Monday it was web stuff and more book stuff. Tuesday it was not one but two telegrams and then of course picking up my audiobook. Wednesday it was more telegram deliveries. Thursday was being Paris Hilton and hearing some of my book. Friday I had to track down my new May because the Post Office lost her. I ended up finding her but still, it was stressful.
Anyway, I was walking by the boardwalk and decided to just try to see if I could balance on those side thingies, you know. That is when this dude who is running breezes by and slaps me a high five. Okay, it’s summer. Whatever. It’s finally warm. People are in a decent mood. I jumped down from the thingie and proceeded to continue.
As I continued I saw this gaggle of young men swarm by on skateboards. As they came upon me, they began to hoot and holler. Swarming around me, they each slapped me a high five. What the hell was going on? “Yo, wassup!” The blonde one said.
“Wassup?!?” The black one said. While times have changed, most skateboarders in my day were white stoner kids.
“You’re hot.” A third one said. They all had black shirts on with the name of some sort of skate shop. I began to wonder what the hell was going on. This day was indeed very strange in sort of that dream sequence kind of way.
That is when the black skater said, “Yo, will you say something for our camera?”
“What are you filming?” I asked unsure of what was going on.
“Oh Shreddy TV. That is our network.” The black skater dude answered. He seemed to be the brains of the operations. “Say you are with Justin Adams.”
“Who’s Justin Adams?” I asked now very confused.
“I am.” The guy standing next to me explained. He looked to be ethnically ambiguous and was slightly taller than I was. Nonetheless, he was good looking. His arm was wrapped in a cast in an ace bandage.
“Nice to meet you,” I said going to shake his hand.
“Easy. Just broke the thing.” Justin explained.
“So I say, ‘This is Shreddy TV and I am here with Justin Adams?” I asked.
“Nah, just say this is Shreddy TV. That will be easier.” The black skater with the camera commanded.
“Okay.” I said. And that is when I gave the line. Afterwards they asked me to pose for a picture. And then they thanked me.
“Thanks so much, you are so cool.” The blonde white skater said.
“Hey, anything for random guys I meet at the pier.” I replied still confused as to what actually happened and how this thing just transpired out of no where.
“So you’re Justin.” I said turning to Justin not sure of what to say.
“Yes he is, and that is a pro you are standing next to.” The blonde explained. “And we are Shreddy TV. We all like the page on facebook. Friend us.”
Just as he boys sped off Justin hung back and chatted with me for a few more minutes.
This is how the exchange went
Justin: We should hang sometime. I have a sweet assed loft in Brooklyn.
Justin: You’re mad hot.
Justin: Do you smoke weed?
Justin: Do you drink? There are a shitload of good bars in my hood.
Me: Not a drinker either.
Justin: What do you do?
Me: Chill and have fun.
Justin: I can chill and have fun.
Me: Fair enough. What’s your sign?
Justin: Right on. Lets exchange numbers. Are you a West Side Girl?
Me: Yes sir.
We exchanged numbers and that is when his skater posse beckoned for him. There was more hot wheeling to be done. Just as I was about to cross the street to go home I came across the runner who high fived me once again. He approached me and said, “Hello Beautiful, we meet again.” That is when he took my hand and kissed it. I stood in shock. What the hell had just happened? I asked myself this. I bid him goodbye and a good night because what exactly do you do when you have had an evening like this.
That is when I determined that yes, there are only some things that can happen to me.xoxoxo
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center