Life Among the Vampire Set

05Oct06

A couple weeks ago, two of my closest friends here in London moved into my neighborhood. Their new place is just a ten minute stroll down the road. Happily, both Jonathan and David are excellent young men. More to the point, they are also both nocturnally inclined (though not quite as extremely so as myself).

Last Thursday, seizing the opportunity to emerge from my cigarette ash and empty soda can-ridden lair, I made the trek over to their Murray Street residence. Over the course of about four hours we put away a bottle of Smirnoff and three bottles of wine, all to the
soothing tones of CocoRosie and David’s ceaseless ranting. A good time was had by all.

For a fuller understanding of what happened next, it’s important to note here that I am an unusually genial drunk. When I drink to excess, I invariably reach a stage where I truly feel that all is well with the world. I laugh too much at very little. I befriend strangers. I wonder loudly why we can’t All Just Get Along. I become very very difficult to offend.

So, it’s been a good night and I am Happy Drunk. Four a.m. rolls around, and although I’m still good to go, the boys have actually been awake for most of the day and need to get some rest. After giving David a final poke or two, I take my leave. I may be happy, but I feel a little too drunk to walk the epic distance home, so I weave my way over to the 24 hour bus stop across the street. I sit. Two Beck songs and a couple of cars go by.

Camden is generally quite lively at all hours, but Murray Street and Agar Grove are relatively residential so there’s very little traffic. It’s mildly sketchy, but not much more than anywhere in London at four a.m. I notice a red car come into view down the road. It drives up and slows down; without really thinking anything of it, I pop a headphone out of an ear and lean forward. Maybe they want directions. The driver rolls down his car window and, in a tone I can only describe as politely inquisitive, asks:

“You want some business?”

Without skipping a beat, I hear myself go, “No, no thanks!”

He nods cheerfully and drives off.

I serenely stick the headphone back in my ear.

Slowly, the meaning of the exchange starts to pierce my Drunk Happy haze: That was random. Business? Wait. Have I just been solicited for prostitution? No, no, that can’t be right. Why would? What? Have I? I have! HAHAHA! I have, haven’t I? I have! And I thanked him! HAHAHAHA! I CAN’T BELIEVE I THANKED HIM. What? No. Nonono. Maybe he was just trying to sell me drugs. But then wouldn’t he have just said…? No. Nooo, he said “business.” As if I’d set up shop at the goddamn bus stop. Ha. Yep. Yeeeeeeep, that man definitely just offered to pay me for sex. HAHAHA! WEIRD. What a strange strange man. He must’ve been having a rough night. This is the. weirdest. thing. ever.

The frantic inner monologue continues through the next song on my playlist. Then, suddenly, I realize that the car is COMING BACK. The man drove off for about a minute and a half, U-TURNED, and came BACK. Genuinely curious and on a kind of stunned automatic pilot, I take the headphone out of my ear. He’s on my side of the street now, much closer than before. The window is down. He smiles, friendly:

“You SURE you don’t want some business?”

And again, I hear myself happily reply, “Yeeep, I’m preeetty sure! Thanks, though!”

He nods matter of factly and drives off, back in the direction he originally came from.

The headphone goes back into the ear.

…PRETTY SURE? I’m PRETTY SURE? So what, I wasn’t completely sure?? What was I doing, waiting for a better offer?? WHAT!? And I THANKED him AGAIN! I can’t believe he came back.
I can not BELIEVE he came back. You know what that means? That means my first answer was casual enough that it didn’t occur to him that he’d made a mistake, that maybe, despite my fatness and scintillating SWEATSHIRT and JEANS, I might NOT be a HOOKER. Did he think I was just not in the mood? That I might give a different answer the second time around!? WHAT? WHAT? WHAT IS going ON!

* * *

Clearly, going to bed in the afternoon and waking up at midnight to start your ‘day’ is a lifestyle that doesn’t lend itself to a lot of normal social interaction. I’m just saying.

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