We'll always have the night

This is my dear husband, standing by some of his artwork. Funny thing, we were just friends at the time of this picture. He wanted to take me around his neighborhood and show me some of the spots he had painted.

Have you ever met someone who was just way out and didn't care about other people's opinion? That was Michael. Always outrageous, always entertaining, always unique. Always thinking outside the box.

This picture sort of reminds me of one of those Where's Waldo books, only a ghetto version. He's sporting a 'fro and some slacks, a dark green sweater and an oxford shirt tucked underneath. He was totally not the type of guy I used to be into.

But he was so fun to be around. He always took me on all kinds of adventures. He wasn't at all like the other guys I hung out with, who were content to play video games, get high, drink and watch movies. He called me up one night and asked me if I wanted to go out "sketching". Okaaaaay. Sure, I said. So we drove out to Hollywood, off of Sunset. We were all the way up on a dark hill, overlooking the city. It could have been one of those make-out spots from the 50's. Like Inspiration Point or someplace like that. He swears up and down that he didn't have any intention of making a move on me. And even though it bugs the heck out of me, I know he is telling the truth. I ain't gonna lie, I would have offered it up on a platter if I thought he would have went for it.

As soon as we got out of my car and slammed the door shut, I realized I locked my keys in the car. Great. It was after midnight, all the way in the Hollywood Hills, no cell phone (in those days cell phones were the size of shoe boxes--and don't get me started on the size of the batteries-- so we all had pagers) and no AAA. What are we going to do now?

So we walk allll the way down the steep hill to this gas station. I couldn't reach my best friend so my only option was to call my Dad. He was the only one who had a spare key anyhow. Very sheepishly I called him for help. As a one would expect, he was not very pleased. I just know he thought we were doing something we shouldn't all the way up there on that dark, secluded hill. If he only knew, there was no funny business going on at all!

While we waited I sat on a busy bus stop bench and tried to sketch all the craziness on Sunset Blvd. The freaks come out at night for sure! I must have looked pretty strange myself, sitting on a bench with a big sketchpad a one in the morning. I don't remember where Michael was at the time, probably tagging on something, but I do know he was pissed at me because I was the only who locked the keys in the car. Whatever.

When my Dad rolled up at nearly 2 am, his face said it all. Now, my Dad is not the overprotective, judgemental father type. For the most part, he has been the liberal, "you are an adult now so you can do what you want and it's your business" type Dad. But if looks could kill, he would have slayed both Michael and I.

In silence he drove us up the hill, handed me my keys, watched me open up my door and then he took off. Daaaang, Dad. It was unusual to feel my father's displeasure in something I had done. I think this was the first time we had this sort of father/daughter separation over a person, a man, in my life.

And then we were speeding down that hill somewhere in Hollywood, ready to get back to our usual mischief, in pursuit of some sort of creative endeavor.

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