In 1998 (the same year I missed the cult conclave square dance convention in Portland OR, I was on tour with Miss Saigon. Whenever possible, if we were playing a city where I knew somebody and could talk them into letting me stay at their place (with compensation such as free tickets and occasional dinner out, my treat), I would save money that way. In those days the tour would move only about every five or six weeks, so it really added up to some savings if I could spongemoochtake advant um, work out mutually beneficial arrangements like that.
So that year we played East Lansing, Michigan, and I (with my car, I believe) stayed with a friend, Jerry, who had a modest apartment in Lansing. He is not exactly a nudist (though definitely an attractive silver fox kind of guy) but he didn't mind my hanging about the place wearing little or nothing, which I did a lot during the daytimes. And though he was retired, he was often out and about doing things during the day while I was just getting up and getting *my* day started.
So one morning I got up and Jerry was off doing something or other. I cracked open the apartment door, which looked out onto an open landing/breezeway, from which staircases led up and down. I had been getting into the habit of reading the daily paper (you know, the important parts, like the funnies and the crossword puzzles), and I saw that that day's paper was lying on the landing just outside the door. You see where this is going, don't you?
Yes, I figured that even though there were neighbors whose doors opened on the same landing, no one would see little naked me if I just scurried out far enough to grab the paper and bring it in. And wouldn't you know, a gust of wind came up and slammed the door shut. And not just shut, but locked. I was out there on the landing with NOTHING to cover me up except... well, the daily paper!
I decided I had no choice but to knock on one neighbor's door, with the paper covering my privates. The man had seen me about (clothed, of course) and so he knew who I was. Fortunately he was home, and he let me in (his wife was rather confused by the whole situation, of course) and he called the building super who came up and unlocked Jerry's door with a smile. Of course I was highly embarrassed, but he acted as if that sort of thing had happened before. And I'm sure if he was super for very long, something like that had happened before!
I laughed inside at the time, knowing that I was in the middle of something fantasies are made of... if only the personnel had been a bit different! (You know, imagine Wade Neff as the neighbor and/or Richard Locke as the super. Or vice versa, who cares?)
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Date: 2005-10-16 05:53 am (UTC)In 1998 (the same year I missed the
cult conclavesquare dance convention in Portland OR, I was on tour with Miss Saigon. Whenever possible, if we were playing a city where I knew somebody and could talk them into letting me stay at their place (with compensation such as free tickets and occasional dinner out, my treat), I would save money that way. In those days the tour would move only about every five or six weeks, so it really added up to some savings if I couldspongemoochtake advantum, work out mutually beneficial arrangements like that.So that year we played East Lansing, Michigan, and I (with my car, I believe) stayed with a friend, Jerry, who had a modest apartment in Lansing. He is not exactly a nudist (though definitely an attractive silver fox kind of guy) but he didn't mind my hanging about the place wearing little or nothing, which I did a lot during the daytimes. And though he was retired, he was often out and about doing things during the day while I was just getting up and getting *my* day started.
So one morning I got up and Jerry was off doing something or other. I cracked open the apartment door, which looked out onto an open landing/breezeway, from which staircases led up and down. I had been getting into the habit of reading the daily paper (you know, the important parts, like the funnies and the crossword puzzles), and I saw that that day's paper was lying on the landing just outside the door. You see where this is going, don't you?
Yes, I figured that even though there were neighbors whose doors opened on the same landing, no one would see little naked me if I just scurried out far enough to grab the paper and bring it in. And wouldn't you know, a gust of wind came up and slammed the door shut. And not just shut, but locked. I was out there on the landing with NOTHING to cover me up except... well, the daily paper!
I decided I had no choice but to knock on one neighbor's door, with the paper covering my privates. The man had seen me about (clothed, of course) and so he knew who I was. Fortunately he was home, and he let me in (his wife was rather confused by the whole situation, of course) and he called the building super who came up and unlocked Jerry's door with a smile. Of course I was highly embarrassed, but he acted as if that sort of thing had happened before. And I'm sure if he was super for very long, something like that had happened before!
I laughed inside at the time, knowing that I was in the middle of something fantasies are made of... if only the personnel had been a bit different! (You know, imagine Wade Neff as the neighbor and/or Richard Locke as the super. Or vice versa, who cares?)
So... now you know!