I'm going to do it though. As a writing exercise. And I'll probably revise online.
I was 18. Old enough to drink, not interested in voting. My first summer after high school graduation. Like my father before me, I was a camp counselor. I rode a bus home for my mid season break. Somehow I met a sailor at the Port Authority. There's a cliche. He indicated that he needed a place to stay , and being charitable, I invited him to stay at my parent's house. My parents were out of town, leaving me alone no doubt they trusted me.
It took me a few hours to get there. We lived had to take the ... train to its end and then ride a bus from Jamaica to the city line where we lived. When we got to the house I gave him my sister's room and said good night. In the middle of the night he woke me up and told me that I was a sweet kid and that he was leaving. I feel sorry for the poor guy. He thought he was going to find sex and all he got was several hours with the New York City transit authority.
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2 comments:
My, my, my. I'm glad you were okay.
Howdy: Sorry I don't get by more often (it's so much easier to read my wordpress friends' blogs then to go over to the ones I keep at yahoo). That map (of my favorite city) drew me in. What a story. But so nice that you lived in a naive time where you didn't think the worse. OOOOh. That makes you sound OLD (and I just had my _0th birthday... who's old??)
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