As we grow older things change, sometimes without our notice, sometimes we notice quite well because life is full of first times...a first date, the rush of a first kiss, your first time together, marriage, first kid... all the first times, each in their turn, each in a neat little row... one after the other. I mention this because I was arrested for the first time yesterday.
Now, in my mid 60’s, looking back over my life, I am unclear as to how I came to this particular predicament.
For those of you who do not know me let me take a moment to explain my side of the story. I am neither a thug nor a bad guy by any stretch of any imagination.
I am a rough and tumble kind of a guy who has been shot at pistol whipped, stabbed and have had my share of fights, all without being arrested. I can assure you I have never started a fight and by the same measure never walked away from one either without solving the problem first. I raise my boys with the axiom “Never start a fight but make sure you finish it.”
It all began in the electrical isle at the Home Depot. I was buying the material to change out an electrical service. A key component to this task is a weather mast... a ten foot long, forty pound steel pipe.
This was the trigger to my situation.
As I pushed my cart down the isle I couldn’t help but notice an attractive young woman watching me. Dressed in black slacks with a pale blue, floral top, covered with a bright orange Home Depot apron she appeared to be 23 or 24. She leaned against shelves and smiled softly in my direction.
I acknowledged her smile, nodding in return in an effort to be polite.
What had caught my eye was that fact that she wore lipstick, a deep rich, luscious, red lipstick. Her long, straight red hair curled under at the end gave her that Lauren Becall forties movie star appearance.
I tried desperately to ignore her, to go on about my business, turning my back to her, reaching for the afore mentioned weather mast. To my dismay they are placed four feet off the floor making them arduously difficult to recover.
The next time I glanced in her direction she waved lightly and her smile broadened.
I smiled in return and nodded again.
She pushed off the shelves, placing her hands behind her back and began to saunter in my direction.
I stood, turning to meet her advance.
“I’ve been watching you,” she said, swinging her shoulders lightly from side to side.
“I noticed,” I returned.
With her this close I could smell her perfume, see her perfect skin and her blue eyes. She was truly a beautiful young woman.
“My name is Carla,” she said and placed a warm hand on my arm.
To my surprise my shoulders pulled back, my stomach sucked in and both of their own volition.
“Hi Carla,” I said not know exactly what I should say.
“Did you need help?” she asked rubbing my arm nonchalantly.
“No, I got it.”
I couldn’t help but notice the shape of her face, her lips, her body, the look in her eyes.
“Don’t be like that. You’re just like my Grandpa. He won’t ask for help either,” she cooed.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Don’t be stubborn, I help my Grandpa all the time,” she said taking my hand leading back to my cart.
Well, as you might imagine things spiraled out of control shortly after that... mean things were said, punches were thrown, shelves knocked over and the police called.... clearly it was not my fault.
