I have been waiting for a very special occasion to share this story with the world. Seeing as how my best friend Britni is celebrating her birthday today, I figured it would be the best time to share said story; mainly because she's the reason why it happened. Happy birthday Britni, this is your favorite story.For those who know me, I am usually up in the middle of the night, being belligerent and looking for belligerent situations to get myself into. This night was no different. It was senior year of undergrad, and I was driving around my part of the city out of boredom at 2am. As I am getting close to my apartment, I get a phone call from none other than Britni.
Me: Hey, what are you doing up this late?
Britni: OH MY GAWD! There is a HUGE spider at my house! Can you please come over and kill it?!?
Me: Are you being serious right now? You want me to cross town to kill a spider?
Britni: YES! Antoine, its REALLY big, you have to come kill it please!
Me: Fine. Okay, I'll be over in 15 minutes.
Knowing Britni for so long, I couldn't be surprised that she would ask for such a ridiculous favor, which is why I gave in so easily. She lived about 6 miles from me, and going through the city to get between the two places was usually torture. Seeing as how it was 2 am and I was bored senseless driving in my car already, I made the drive without much reservation.
Upon arrival at the house, I see Britni and her roommate with glasses of Franzia and sitting on top of their cars.
Me: Okay, where is the spider?
Britni: It's somewhere in the car port! PLEASE GET IT!
Me: Britni, your arachnophobia is out of control. You called me over here to kill a spider that is OUTSIDE.
Britni: But its REALLY BIG
Roommate: It really is, I'm not usually afraid of spiders but this one is big we promise!
So naturally I'm slightly peeved that Britni is trying to assure me that this rescue call was of actual importance. Although I liked the roommate very much (still do, she's a blast), I didn't know her well enough to know her levels of arachnophobia. Before I could do a pass in the car port, I hear a screech come from Britni; "AHHHHHH!!!! There it is!!!!!!! I follow her finger to the spider, and there it was: a rat sized spider, chilling by a box, with MOM tattooed to its arm, a switch blade, two bandanas because it was repping both Bloods and Crips, 6 pairs of Air Force Ones, and holding its Master's Degree in Business Administration from LSU.
Me: HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!
I think I peed a little when I first saw it, because it was not at all what I was expecting. Well played, Britni. Regardless of the size and my own reservations about getting close to it, I was going to do my duty as the male friend and stomp this spider. As soon as I get my final nerve to do it, the roommate beckons me to stop. She has a better idea.
Roommate: I'm going to call Animal Control!
Thats a bad idea
Me: No, lets just let me do it and we'll be done.
Ignoring me because she's on the phone
Roommate: I got the machine, they say call 911 if its an emergency
Of course you got the machine, its 3 am. She proceeds to dial 911
Roommate: Yes, there is an emergency, we called animal control and they said to call you please come help! Okay thank you! They're on their way!
Such a bad idea
Me: I'm telling you now, that I can do this!
Roommate: NO! If you do it, they'll think we're liars when they get here!
I legitimately could not argue with her logic, although I would have preferred that she had not called 911. So instead of making a quick pass through at my bestfriend's house, I was forced to sit and wait for the police to come, while they sat on top of their cars, and I followed the spider around to make sure it didn't go inside. At one point, a friend from down the street called the roommate and she told him to come look at the spider. He comes down to the house, drunk and drink in hand, sees the spider, and promptly leaves. HELL! I wish I had that option!
The police officer arrives, and sees the girls on top of their cars. He asks them what the problem was, and they state that there is a spider they needed to take care of. He gives the classic "Are you shitting me" face, then turns to me.
Cop: You couldn't kill the spider for them?
Me: They wouldn't let me...but its right over there
Point to the spider
Cop: Damn! That's a big spider
Thanks a lot, just got played by the cops because I'm trying to be a good friend.
Oh, no sir, I'm just a very large black man, of course I can't kill a spider
The cop goes over in his steel toe boots...
(Question, is police officers required to wear steel toe boots, or is this just a Louisiana thing?)
...and squares off with the spider. After the spider stops moving, the officer goes in for the stomp. WOMP!!!!!! Direct hit. As soon as the officer lifts his foot to see the damage, about 300 baby spiders high tail it from underneath the boot: and the girls saw it.
Me: Dude, you just f***ed up.
Cop: Ummmm....well you ladies have a nice night.
Me: I gots to go.
I did NOT want to wait around and see the psychological damage that this scene was about to cause. I saw some toxic aerosol can, and told them that they should spray the spiders they can find with it, and go about my merry business.
I get in my car and just die laughing of the ridiculousness I just took part of. Little did I know, my night was about to get a bit more interesting. I go out of the neighborhood in which Britni lived, and crossed the main street to the gas station. I had been driving for a good part of the night, and gas was in order. As I am pumping the gas, I see this scantly clad woman, who could be nothing short of a prostitute. Finding this sight to be funny, I decide that I would call Britni to give her a laugh. As I am typing in the words to inform my friend of this oddity in the neighborhood, I hear a polite voice behind me:
Polite voice: Excuse me sir...
It was her
Me: Ummm...yes ma'am?
Scantly Clad Woman (SCW): Could you tell me where West Roosevelt Street is?
God, are you playing with me right now? Is this a test?
Me: Its about 6 or 7 miles in that direction
SCW: Oh...hate to ask, but if I paid you, would you be willing to give me a ride?
Yep, this is a test. I wait before I answer and reflect, and decided.
Me: Ma'am, I can give you a ride, you don't have to pay me, because I live on that street.
SCW: Oh THANK YOU! Let me run into the station really quick and grab some things, and I'll be right out! Will you wait for me?
She goes into the gas station, and 10 minutes later she comes out with a feast of gas station food. She gets in my car, and I am already figuring out ways to sanitize the seat once I get her home. We begin the drive, and per usual I start asking questions to make it more comfortable while she is feasting on her bag-o-goodies. She was about in her late 30's, light brown hair, average build with a bit of a belly pudge. She was wearing a jean skirt, and a pink top that showed off said pudge. She tells me that some friends she barely knew and her were partying, and some how ended up on that side of town without knowing how she got there or how to get back. She kept giggling over the fact that she partied so hard. She was originally from California, and she moved to Alexandria, LA when she met her husband. She moved to Baton Rouge when she divorced him, and had been living there for 5 months.
That conversation lasted for a good part of the ride, so I thought I was home free from any weirdness. But of course, I kept asking questions:
Me: So, if you don't mind me asking, where do you work?
SCW: Oh, I'm a performer.
THANK GOODNESS! She's just a stripper! Everyone knows I love strippers.
Me: Oh okay, cool! I know a lot of people who work in clubs around here, which one do you work in?
SCW: Me? Oh, the streets.
Damnit, she's a damn prostitute
Me: Oh...
After being angry with myself for picking up a prostitute, I couldn't believe that I thought that she was a stripper. Strip clubs have standards, and she wasn't meeting them. Not saying, just saying. At this point, we're almost out of campus, and there was nothing I could do that would change the fact that I had given the prostitute a ride home. Even if I had dropped her off right then after she said it, she was already so close to where we were going, she had already won. The prostitute won.
We passed by a police officer pulling over a car. Me being nosey, goosenecked the car to see if I knew the driver of it.
Prostitute: Don't look too hard. If they see a big black man with a white girl in their front seat, they're gonna think you're my pimp!
You. are. awful. Can't wait for you to be out my car.
Shortly after, I make it to my street, and she actually needs to go around the corner. Although it would have been much easier for me to park at my place and let her walk around the corner to where she was going, I didn't want to give her the chance to know where I lived, so I took her to the spot. I soon realized that maybe she didn't live where I was taking her, but I was just taking her to her next corner to work. She gathers her belongings and steps out of the car. She thanks me wholeheartedly for the ride and I told her it was not a problem.
Prostitute: (under her breath) You can get a bj for $100
Me: I'm sorry ma'am, what?
Prostitute: Nothing.
She shuts my door, and I peel off to my apartment. I get inside, lock my door, and mass text everyone and anyone I thought would appreciate the fact that I took a prostitute for a ride. I climb in my bed and go to sleep.
I do not regret this occurrence seeing as how prostitute are people too, and any show of kindness towards humanity is a win for our species. I also feel that I should explain my actions of relief when I thought that the prostitute was a stripper.
When I was a freshman in college, I had the pleasure of meeting an amazing girl who went by Chicago. Before I knew anything about Chicago's life, I fell for her advanced knowledge of chemistry and biology, love of life, and great positive attitude. The night I met her (at the club), we went back to her house and we hung out with a bunch of friends. It was awesome. Found out she was a stripper. Then we started going to her club, and she gifted me with stripper knowledge, so naturally I feel super comfortable around strippers. But not prostitutes.
At least she didn't ask for coins. Happy birthday Britni! ~!Antoine!~
