frightening pick up story:
on the way home from ben's, i stopped at a streetlight just at the edge of the east side. a car full of men drives up and i glance over as i normally do. before my eyes i see a man dancing his white moves and holding up his hand in a phone like manner. i roll down the window to a barrage of a horrible techno remix...
"yes, what would you like?"
"where are you going now?"
"can i have your number?"
"i'm afraid not."
(she be like, heeelll no) "well can i at least get your name?"
"telley? well..."
"well can i at least get your name? can i at least get your number?"
"umm, no. sorry."
he had his cell phone in his hand the whole time, ready.
at least the light turned green. at least i got away.