I noticed her red hair first. We made eye contact but I wasn't planning for any more than that. I've been feeling romantically unsettled for a while now, predating the trip, and my general ability to work up excitement for ephemeral connections has been low. Earlier I'd remained embarrassingly non-responsive when the really quite good looking hostess at the place we had BBQ gave me the eye. I was even attracted to her, but I just didn't have the energy to try and strike up a conversation. I tend to think of people I encounter via a direct commercial context (e.g. we're on opposite ends of an economic transaction) as somewhat off limits for flirtation. There are obviously exceptions to this rule, but my general ethos is that people who you're paying for something (whether it's a drink or haircut or a bag of groceries) don't need to put up with your crap. So I tend not to do anything more than be a good customer when I enounter attractive people via the service industry. In this case there was a moment after the meal when she conspicuously came out to take a smoke break while we were waiting for Mark to get out of the bathroom so we could hit the street. More glances. I did nothing. The night moved on. Like I said, I really didn't have it in me.
So what happened? Well, we were rolling along and I saw a girl with red hair. I looked her in the eye and she looked straight back. This is, I think, about as good as it gets. She's dressed up pretty spiffy and with what looks like a wedding party (weddings and bachelorete parties, lots of them, another paralell with vegas). I'm wearing my Downhill Battle t-shirt and a headband and have the above-mentioned headspace. Long story short, I move on, but of course I don't just turn and walk away. This is a kind of dance you do, this looking. You always look at least twice, and when I do she's still looking. When I look the third time as my pace is about to carry me by she sort of gives me this look like, "what the fuck are you doing walking past me?"
And that's how Halie picked me up on beale Street. It was a flurry of concidential third and fourth degree connections -- she moved to New York right as I left; my sister and her went to the same college; she's into acting and writing and film production -- and a real earthy mutual attraction. We sort of hit it off there.
Her group was headed off the strip. We were getting bored of the whole scene, so we followed them to a place called Rayford's that's within walking distance but isolated enough that people who don't know about it don't go there. Everything seems to be going well, but there are complications regarding the line and the cover charge and so Hailey and her group go while we (twice!) balk at the door.
I got angry. Because of the additional immediacy of the girl I got far more angry than I aught to; the whole situation was a instance of an ongoing social thing that pisses me off -- the idea that money can stop you from doing things and the degree to which my friends seem to subscribe to it -- but instead of just getting annoyed I got momentarily furious and stalked off.
And then I realized that since I had the forethought to get her cell phone number I could try and communicate. Through the magic of text messaging I explained what was up and she suggested I make one more try at the line, which I did after further realizing that I didn't need to be so tightly bound by what my friends do, pulling out $300 and distributing it among the crew, and throwing down a round at Silky O'Sullivans. I cruised back over, feeling better already, and got in the end of the now quite long line. Before I got too far along she actually headed out. We spoke for a moment; she was heading home, which I'd half-expected, but we had a little kiss. It was little because it was in front of a bunch of dressed up but drunk Memphisites waiting on line to get into a 70's themed dance club with a $10 cover charge that serves only 40oz beers and accepts only cash. Meaning there was a little cat-calling. But it wasn't perfunctory either. The art of looking and first kissing are similar to me. You should always try to have more than one step in the dance.
So I said my goodbyes and headed back to meet the pack, nearly falling on my ass hopping over a little parking lot divider on the way, which was in full view of the same line crowed so I got called out to take a bow, which I did as I was in high enough spirits to take it in stride. This was as good as it could get, I thought. I had established the mutual interest. I had her phone number. I had an open invitation to call when we were coming through New York. Two thumbs up, three cheers, and all that jazz.
I rejoined the group to discover that my annoyance was still there in spite of my 180 on the attitude. See, the closer I am to people, the more I have a hard time being critical of them. This is not an endearing personality characteristic. It's something I'll need to work on, but in the moment I was still annoyed by my friends' inability to think outside the box, particularly pulling the plug at the club because it didn't seem like we had enough cash on hand to get in and drink. This pushed my "don't let money dictate your choices" button. So while things had really worked out for me once I started making my own decisions, I was still upset about the more fundimental stuff. This has been going on for a while, though getting better as of late. It's been a learning experience on a number of levels, this trip. It is a challenge. Trying to find my way into a balanced mix of independence and connectedness with two friends who I love dearly but haven't seen on a daily basis for a couple years, all while in a state of constant social and physical proximity... it's good heavy life shit.
But I'm mostly over it, at least over the actual anger. I want to get back to the group and I do, and we agree to stay out much later (it's already 3am) because we can and were those type of people and it's this kind of place. We collect disused booze buckets (you can pay $18 for a "Diver", a 1/2 gallon bucket of rum punch "Guaranteed to make ya' go down.") for potential use in constructing the stand-up bass for our junk band, then make for someplace that's open until 5am. A round of gin and tonics. The roof balcony. Things are a little slow and jilted, but starting to settle.
She calls me at about 3:45. Her friend's car got locked within a parking garage which closed on it at 2:30, can I help out? I collect money for a cab and literally run over, passing jockish Memphis dudes with a "gotta catch a girl," which they seem to dig. Hailey and friend Lauren are locked outside a garage waiting with the lot attendant Melvin who's being a saint and calling the manager over from somewhere on his cellphone and getting him to open it up in exchange for a small bribe. I'm sure he would have helped these two girls out in any case, but there's sort of an expectation that if this works out the money that might have gone to cab fair would head his (and the manager's) way. No problem. In truth, these girls don't really need me. Though it's probably nice ot have a friendly guy around in this sort of situation, they know they've got a friend in Melvin, and I'm kind of thrilled to realize that Hailey called me over because she wants to see me.
So by and by we get Hailey's friend Lauren's car out of the garage and head into the Memphis night. Sincere "God bless you"s from the girls. $20 from me. They're high school friends, I'm a random, but the vibe is comfortable. They play indie rock for one another and I lend a hand when I can; we drive through midtown Memphis into a rather nice neighborhood -- big houses, big trees, all well maintained -- and roll up to Hailey's family's house, where we're going to hang out.
----
Now, I don't really know what the score is here. I met this girl, and she's a recent new yorker, and by new york city rules, it wouldn't be unreasonable to suspect that we might end up sleeping together. But we're not in New York, we're in Memphis. This isn't her apartment, it's her parents' house where she grew up. One of her best friends from high school is hanging out with us. So my thought is that every moment is a blessing and I should just live the now for all it's worth. This proved to be a liberating choice.
We get in and everyone wants water. The place to hang out is upstairs, which is big and empty after being recently remodeled. The idea of getting high emerges so Hailey says she'll go wake up her father to get his pot. Ok. Fine. Big House with a pot-smoking Dad who loves Jesus. It doesn't get much better than this, I think.
In the mean time Lauren has cut her pinkie toe open upstairs running into a box fan which she couldn't see in the dark. Finally I see something I can do for these ladies and I leap down to ferrit out tissue, bandages, ointment, hydrogen peroxide and some ice, play medic for a minute, and it's good to have a purpose and we staunch the bleeding, listen to the iPod, smoke a little of Dad's marijuanna, drink some water, some aloe-vera juice (no joke), bandage the toe, and hang the fuck out.
My time alternates really between listening to their old-school girl talk and doing my best to steal kisses. Lauren's in the music biz and I'm wearing the Downhill Battle tee, so that's worth a little conversation too, but at some point she's had enough and goes to crash leaving myself and Hailey with myself and Hailey.
There's some making out, which is a step up from stolen kisses, but the sun is beginning to rise and so the floor of the empty upstairs isn't looking so sweet. Hailey's room has two twin beds with Lauren asleep in one, so we squeeze into the other, and it's good to lie close and neck and kiss and rub noses and breathe eachother's breath. All with her friend asleep in the other twin bed, which lends an edge of both innocence and naughtyness to the whole affar, like clandestine college dorm makeout, the good old days.
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Man, this is getting long. The point of the story is that Hailey's family is cramazing; party animal music and movie making southern baptist liberal aristocrats with ties to the produce industry. Rex and Donna broke the mold, and when Luke, Mark and Jessie came to pick me up after they'd been to Graceland (and I'd been drinking bloody marys all afternoon) we ended up staying another night. It was quite a little run. I've got some outstanding audio too, but I need to get permission from the people before I post it.
(there's more)
