It was the summer I ran away that comes to mind. Don't get me wrong; I wasn't a child. I was 27. And it was of my own free will. Kinda. The events leading up to June are what forced me to shove all my stuff into storage and flee to good ole New Orleans.
I'd had a stalker. I've written a poem about it here. I was a second grade teacher in The Woodlands and I'd just moved to an apartment complex closer to the action in Houston. Boy did I get some action! After the guy was caught and evicted, they let me out of my lease. It was nearly May. I was dating someone who lived in New Orleans. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out my reasoning.
My boyfriend owned a sound and lighting company and so he was involved in the night life. He worked many concerts, one in particular was Harry Connick, Jr. After the show we went to Pat O'Briens for an exclusive celebration. Anyone who has ever been there knows about the hurricanes they serve, and I had sweet talked my way into several of them by the time I got up the nerve to walk up to Harry and introduce myself. Like a giddy school girl I held out my hand and told him my name, said that I was his biggest fan. I would have been any star's biggest fan at that point. He looked at me like, who the hell are you? I felt smaller than a doubloon, but at least I can now say I've had a private conversation with Harry Connick, Jr.
During the long hot days I worked in a fancy seafood restaurant as a door hostess. A few times I had to step in and wait tables for a no-show, but to tell you the truth, I couldn't even carry the cumbersome trays much less remember who ordered what. I worked my way over to bartending where I received a fun education on those New Orleans spirits. I wasn't too long into that when my boyfriend convinced me to quit and spend my days at the country club. No problem-o!
This was also the summer I went to Puerto Vallarta for my birthday - his treat, I might add. You can read about my daring adventure up the steep mountains with a crazy driver here. I went to some ritzy affairs dressed in slinky black dresses and was spoiled to death by a man thirteen years older than me. By the end of the summer, our generation gap was becoming more prominent as were his promiscuous habits... but I'll never forget that adventurous summer.
Written for Kellie Elmore's Free Write Fridays- One Amazing Summer