Maybe it's just me, but during Sunday Ticket at Scams Brassfield there wasn't a Dallas fan anywhere to be seen, leading me to assume that they've all given up on the season. Not saying they shouldn't give up on the season after that pitiful performance against Minnesota, but going into the game Sunday, with a win, they would have been 2-3 - not the end of the world by a long shot. Steelers' fans were out though -every one of them ugly as sin, as always. Scary. And loud. Don't forget the loud.
It was about 6 years ago that I moved to the Gate City. For about 7 &1/2 years prior to that I worked in Greensboro off and on, but lived in a town about 20 miles north. When I decided to move into the city for good, I didn't have much of a plan. By that I mean, I had no plan whatsoever. I drove into Greensboro on Labor Day and checked into the Hampton Inn way out in McLeansville - not even technically in Greensboro. After a few days there, I decided that the Hampton Inn was not a long term housing solution. I checked into some half-dive place down near High Point Rd & Meadowview (not far from the mall). And that place was cheaper than the Hampton, but crawling with hookers. Lots of hookers. The ugly hookers - no Julia Roberts anywhere to be seen. So, I needed to get out of there too. I got a Rhino that Thursday and saw an ad that offered a room in a nice residential area for $125 a week - perfect for the time being - or so I thought. I called the number and talked to a very old man - a John Sanderford. We chatted for a few minutes. Then he put his wife on the phone to talk as well. I stopped by there the following afternoon. And this is when old John told me about the specifics of this room for rent. It was upstairs - in between their daughter's room and their 2 grand kids' room. The old couple stayed downstairs. I asked how old the grandchildren were. They were 5 year-old twins, Ethan & Emma (I think -I'm terrible with names). I thought that this might be a mistake. But I wrote the old timer a check for several weeks rent and told him I'd move in on Sunday. It was a quick move in - I only had clothes with me. The room was "furnished." It had a crappy old bed, a creaky dresser, and a rickety chair. The only good thing was that it had a decent TV with Dish Network. Over the 6 weeks I kinda lived there, I rarely used the TV. Here's why. My room was situated in the middle of the hallway. At one end were the two 5 year olds, and at the other was their mom (she was a few years younger than me, divorced, looked a little like Phoebe Cates, down on her luck a bit, and really struggling with some demon or other). The bathroom, which all 4 of us shared, was right next to my room. Oh, and this is key, the lock on my bedroom door didn't always catch - nor did the one in the bathroom. Luckily for me, I spent about 3 of the 6 weeks I stayed there working in Ohio, doing boring presentations for teachers. But the nights I did stumble in that house to sleep were really weird. Several times, one or both of the twins came bounding into my room at night - curious what the hell I was doing, generally wearing bed clothes. That freaked me out. Seriously. I was constantly worried that one of them would run in as I was changing clothes after a shower, ask me something about the male anatomy and then the cops would show up later that day or the next. A number of times, either the mom or the mom and twins would come right into the bathroom as I was showering. No one seemed to be too modest about bathroom etiquette. It made my trips to the can infrequent. I tried to wait until they were either out of the house, dead of night, or crack of dawn. Did I mention that I didn't sleep well at the Sanderfords? Well, I didn't sleep well at the Sanderfords. One of my favorite encounters happened one night at about 9, for some reason I was not out at a bar that night. Old John knocks on my door (at least he didn't barge right in), then walks in and starts talking to me about a screenplay he's trying to get off the ground about some relatives of his and the wild west and Sweden and a big inheritance. I was having a hard time making heads or tails of why he was telling me this. After 5 minutes, I figured out that old John either wanted me to rewrite the screenplay (I had told him that I write a bit for work, but I never mentioned anything about being an actual writer) or he wanted me to invest in getting the screenplay made. Eventually I figured out that he wanted the latter, as he threw out the sum of $10,000. He kept telling me what an investment opportunity it was. I was very straight with the guy, I told him if I had that kind of money that I wouldn't be living week to week in his house between his daughter and grand kids. As I said, after 6 weeks of this, I left. I went to an apartment complex and rented a place for 6 months. But before I left, I had my most memorable experience at the Sanderfords. I was coming back late one Wednesday or Thursday from some of these talks I mentioned in Ohio. I specifically told them that it would be late when I got in, very late. They said fine, fine. Now, it's important to note that they never gave me a key the entire time I was there. They always left the garage door open and I could get into the house through there. I'd never had a problem getting in the house. But this night, it was about 12:30, the damn garage door is down. I can't get into the garage to use the unlocked door that leads to the kitchen. So, I start ringing the door bell. And then knocking on the door. This goes on for like 5 minutes. I had yet to get a cell phone. I couldn't call. I walked around fuming. There was no way I was gonna waste my money on a hotel after I'd paid these nuts $125 that week to crash there and have 5 year old twins jump into bed with me on the slightest whim. No way. So I smoked a cigarette. Then I came back to the front door and started really pounding on it. Sure enough, after about 2 minutes, I saw a light come on and then Mrs. Sanderford (all 70 something years old of her) opened the door for me wearing some light-bluish nightgown. She did apologize at least. I'll give her that. I left the place the following Saturday. I have seen old Mr. Sanderford around town a few times over the years. He kind of looks at me like he might know me. But he never says anything. I remember once, he was at the bank the same time I was, this was probably 2 years after I lived in his home, I walked by him on the way to my car and asked, "You ever get the stupid screenplay off the ground?"
Some of you might be wondering why in the hell I did all of the above. Why I moved on a whim with no plan at all. Well, the answer to that question involves a girl. Obviously.
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