C'mon, let's gather round the AW bar and play a little bit of "top this." I'm going first, so I'll buy the first round.
See, I've never had a good, "tell a stranger at a bar" worthy story before. Not until last night. And it's really not even my story in a way. But I'm going to tell it... I am absolutely compelled to tell it...
Last night I go to my usual Wednesday night spot where everybody knows my name because I used to host the open mic there. Now I just go to show love, though I haven't been for the last few weeks.
The doorman--who everybody calls "Bear"--is relatively new; he's only been working at this club for a little over a month. He remembers me from the last time I was there. He sees me coming, checks my ID to confirm my name again and starts chuckling. He says something to the effect of "I can't believe I'm looking at the real Johnny Compton."
Baffled, but amused, I just say, "What?"
And then he tells me the story. About a year or so ago, Bear and his buddy--who apparently bears a resemblance to me--are arriving at Bear's apartments after a night out. As they step out of the car some guys with obvious ill-intentions basically come out of the shadows and start toward them. Bear and his buddy are wearing their jewelry and nice watches and they're driving a nice car, and they're both recognizing the signs of an impending robbery attempt.
Just before it goes down though, one of the would be robbers steps forth, looks at Bear's buddy and then tells his accomplices, "Wait, this is my boy Johnny Compton! We can't rob these guys! I know this fool!"
Bear's buddy wisely goes along with it, he and the robber briefly catch up on old times and promise to stay in touch, and presto, robbery averted.
Now... you have to understand, I am by no means a gangster. Not at all. I don't typically befriend gangsters either. I'm friends with a few knuckleheads, sure, and I've known a few legitimate thugs, but I've never been pals with one. But it would seem that this would-be-mugger at least thought we were good enough friends for him to spare me from being robbed (though we must not have been close enough for him to remember what I really look like).
I'm sitting here this morning still laughing about it, trying to figure out who the hell this cat could be.
But seriously... how cool is that? As if I needed an ego boost. I am now "Johnny Compton -He Who Shall Not Be Robbed." I'm going to start telling people that if you're ever being robbed you should drop my name. It might save your life. Or at least your wallet.
This is easily the craziest thing that never happened to me...
See, I've never had a good, "tell a stranger at a bar" worthy story before. Not until last night. And it's really not even my story in a way. But I'm going to tell it... I am absolutely compelled to tell it...
Last night I go to my usual Wednesday night spot where everybody knows my name because I used to host the open mic there. Now I just go to show love, though I haven't been for the last few weeks.
The doorman--who everybody calls "Bear"--is relatively new; he's only been working at this club for a little over a month. He remembers me from the last time I was there. He sees me coming, checks my ID to confirm my name again and starts chuckling. He says something to the effect of "I can't believe I'm looking at the real Johnny Compton."
Baffled, but amused, I just say, "What?"
And then he tells me the story. About a year or so ago, Bear and his buddy--who apparently bears a resemblance to me--are arriving at Bear's apartments after a night out. As they step out of the car some guys with obvious ill-intentions basically come out of the shadows and start toward them. Bear and his buddy are wearing their jewelry and nice watches and they're driving a nice car, and they're both recognizing the signs of an impending robbery attempt.
Just before it goes down though, one of the would be robbers steps forth, looks at Bear's buddy and then tells his accomplices, "Wait, this is my boy Johnny Compton! We can't rob these guys! I know this fool!"
Bear's buddy wisely goes along with it, he and the robber briefly catch up on old times and promise to stay in touch, and presto, robbery averted.
Now... you have to understand, I am by no means a gangster. Not at all. I don't typically befriend gangsters either. I'm friends with a few knuckleheads, sure, and I've known a few legitimate thugs, but I've never been pals with one. But it would seem that this would-be-mugger at least thought we were good enough friends for him to spare me from being robbed (though we must not have been close enough for him to remember what I really look like).
I'm sitting here this morning still laughing about it, trying to figure out who the hell this cat could be.
But seriously... how cool is that? As if I needed an ego boost. I am now "Johnny Compton -He Who Shall Not Be Robbed." I'm going to start telling people that if you're ever being robbed you should drop my name. It might save your life. Or at least your wallet.
This is easily the craziest thing that never happened to me...
