It was the mid-Eighties, and it seems like a lifetime ago. I was working the 3-11 shift at a local Atlanta hospital. One evening I took a cab to a gentleman’s entertainment club. I only lived a few blocks away, and a cab was cheaper than a D.U.I. This particular club is an Atlanta landmark, the Clermont Lounge®.
The Clermont Lounge® is a place where the women who used to be gorgeous, or not, decided to come out of retirement for one last twirl on the pole. The great thing about this place is that you never knew who you would see there. From Judges and Mayors, to the average Joe, everybody has to come to the Clermont sooner or later, even just if just to say you’ve been there.
It was a normal evening of fun and entertainment and I stayed until about 0430. When I got ready to leave, I asked the bartender to call me a cab. The guy next to me was from out of town, and was drinking as well, but he wasn’t falling down drunk, so when offered me a ride home, and I said, “Ok.” After all it was only a few blocks away. How could I have known then, I was in for the ride of my life?
He told me he was from Cartersville, Georgia, about 80 miles away from town and said he was staying downtown. As we were backing out of his parking space he hit an Atlanta Police car in the back quarter panel. I saw the guy who was taking cover money run in to tell the policeman we had hit his car. I said to myself, “Oh Shit!”
The policeman came out pissed off and the fellow I was with, I don’t even remember his name now, took off, taking me with him.
Even after the blue lights came on he was determined to outrun the police. I told him this wasn’t Cartersville and we had no chance, but he kept going anyway. Now it was two cars chasing us.
I must admit at this point I was sort of enjoying this whole hot pursuit thing and told him to turn this way or that, because I thought I was familiar with the area. Luckily it was so early there was no traffic. However I was a bit turned around and we were headed downtown toward the, shall I say, a more dangerous part of town.
We finally turned into a street and all of a sudden there were no more blue lights. We thought we had done it and lost them. But as it turned out this was a dead end into an industrial park. We sat there for what must have been ten minutes, asking each other if we were cool. We decided we were ok and turned around.
When we made the final turn towards the main street there were six police cruisers, parked, blue lights, just-a-flashing, waiting for us.
Well, you know we couldn’t run any further so he acquiesced, and pulled over. The police handcuffed us both and put us into the back of different police cars. Remember I was just the passenger so they took my driver’s license and left me cuffed in the car. A policeman came back to me what seemed like a long time later, opened the door, uncuffed me and said, “OK, you can go.”
By this time I knew where I actually was and said, “You can’t leave me here, I’ll be killed!” He replied, “It’s either this or you can spend the night in jail on a public drunk charge.” I thought about it for a second or three. It was at this point I made my second bad decision of the morning. I didn’t realize at this juncture, that I would have to just spend the night in jail and pay a fifty dollar fine and be on my way, safe and sound. But the idea of jail just didn’t sound so good to me at the moment, so I said, “Ok, see ya,” big mistake.
All of a sudden all the blue lights were gone and I was left alone downtown Atlanta on the wrong side of I-75. Not the hotel district on the West side of the expressway, but the ghetto side on the East. I started walking towards Little Five Points, over a mile away on an Easterly path. Again I should have walked the other way. I was walking towards home not the safety of the city. Remember it is 0430 in the morning and my judgment may have been impaired as already demonstrated.
I walked about a block when this guy came out of nowhere. The only thing I knew to do was take a defensive Karate stance. This guy was lightning fast and before I knew it he smacked my left arm and my watch was gone. He just laughed and took off. I was grateful he didn’t have a gun so I trudged on.
I had gone about a block when a black lady came up and told me I wasn’t safe here and to follow her. Here was an offer that I thought wise at the time, third mistake. She took me to her apartment and said, “Come in here, you’ll be safe till morning.” Third mistake!
When I went inside, I could have sworn I was at a Black Panther’s meeting. There were six dudes with huge Afros sitting around not looking all that friendly. She said, “You got any money white boy? Let’s just see.” She asked for my wallet and relieved me of three hundred dollars then said, “Thank you, you can get out now.” At least she gave me my wallet back because there were no credit cards in it.
So here I was downtown, broke and scared. Luckily the busses had started running at 0530 and I flagged down a MARTA bus. He stopped and asked me what the hell I was doing down here. I said, ‘It’s a long story,” I told him I didn’t have any money but could he give me a ride to a safe place to call to my roommate to come pick me up.
Thankfully he said, “Get in” and took me to my original destination, Little Five Points. I realized I didn’t have money for the phone so I asked him if I could borrow a quarter to make a phone call. He laughed, shook his head and gave me the quarter. I will be forever grateful to the bus driver, He was a compassionate man.
I called my roommate and he came and got me. This is one night I will never forget because I was almost as scared as I was in Viet-Nam.
I also learned that sometimes the best decision is the least appealing.
I should have picked jail.
You're right. You can't make up stories like this. A series of decisions you thought were right but turned out wrong… What a coincidence. Your story is very interesting and has special significance for me.
I taught in Atlanta University on the West Side from 1977-1980. I recall going to a club on the North Side with some graduate students that was probably the coolest club I've ever been to. Those girls were young and very sweet. Really taken advantage of. Working at a predominantly black institution with students, I often ventured into "bad" parts of town. But never encountered anything like you. Was once accused of being a drug dealer at a birthday party for an African student who wasn't even there.
My story is being invited by a rich Saudi Arabian MBA student to a house party on the far north side, I left the party after drinking moderately and stopping about 1 am, about 3 am with three students that I had brought to the party.
About a mile down the deserted rural narrow road, the Indian woman in the front seat with me was asleep. Up ahead, I saw headlights coming… And coming… And coming on my side of the road! There was a high bank to my right, so my only choice was to go to the left lane to avoid a head-on collision. That choice is not recommended by safety experts, telling you to go off the road to the right shoulder like my dad did one time.
I was in the left lane in a second and the other car flew by me on the right. I shuddered to think what would've happened to us… With no seatbelts on and no air bags in a7 1973 Monte Carlo. I yelled out to the backseat. "Did you see that!"
The guy from Yemen in the backseat who drank more than anyone else yelled out, "I did! I saw it!"
He was my only witness. You're right, you can't make this stuff up.
For a time, I perched myself on a flat rock, comparing my life with the Guyandotte River. Just as its tributaries replenish it daily, changing it in some small—sometimes great—degree, so have the day-to-day occurrences of life changed me. Like the ri
After a long awaited weekend visitation caused by false allegations of sexual abuse, Glen got to see his children for the first time in over two months. He promised them that they would never be apart again and then they disappeared.
It was the mid-Eighties, and it seems like a lifetime ago. I was working the 3-11 shift at a local Atlanta hospital. One evening I took a cab to a gentleman’s entertainment club. I only lived a few blocks away, and a cab was cheaper than a D.U.I. This particular club is an Atlanta landmark, the Clermont Lounge®.
