DC road trip

The summer after I graduated from High School, I friend of mine invited me to go to Howard University with me. Her boyfriend and mine were friends, and both were jealous and mean (she broke up with hers; I had a baby with mine). They both played basketball and went away to camp that summer for about 2 weeks.

She had been accepted to Howard and was going for some type of freshman orientation. She asked me to come along basically for the company. I got permission from my parents, packed a bag and off we went.

Her parents had a Mercedes. They lived in a part of Westbury where other affluent blacks lived and she had graduated from Lutheran (Lu) High. Her parents did not particularly care for me and I knew it. My mother thought she was a good influence and would cosign anytime I went out with her.

She came by on Friday evening, picked me up and off we went. I had packed a really cute outfit for Saturday night and had on a cute outfit, because we were going straight from the car to the party! She was supposed to check in that morning, but told them she had something to do and they were fine with her checking in on Saturday. We were going to hang out and party all night ( this was called “breaking night”) She would get her room assignment and then go to the seminars/ meetings she was assigned to. I planned to help her set up her room and then take a long nap. The rooms at Howard were cooled with central air! Only the best for Black America’s best and brightest!!

We made pretty good time and got to DC in about 4 hours. We had that Mercedes wide open. The sun had gone down and she had spoken to a friend of hers before she left who was taking a summer class…could we bring liquor and soda? And ice? Sure! No problem. She knew where to stop. It was close to Howard, but it had everything.

We drive to the neighborhood where Howard is located. It is in the hood, but we’re black and from New York, so you know, we’re not afraid of anything!!

We park, get out of the car and go into a corner bodega. The front of it is all the things you would expect, beer, chips, beefaroni, ketchup, ice pops, candy bars. To the rear is where all the hard liquor is. I’m a little shocked, because in NY, you can’t sell liquor and beer in the same store.  But I’m in DC. They can’t vote for President, but your tuition is automatically in state if you live there, so it can be a win if you look at it like that.

As we get out of the car, there’s a guy standing in front of the store. Our age, fine, super fine, curly hair, light eyes, drinking a beer, one leg behind him against the wall..um humh, he looks good! He says hello ladies, we say hello back, he holds the door and we all walk in.

Now is a good time to tell you what we are wearing. I have on a super short pleated school girl skirt, with an off the shoulder red top. On my feet, I am wearing black rubber gladiator sandals. I have my hair in a pony tail and and carrying my mother’s crocodile purse.

You read the correctly. My mother had a small crocodile valise (that was the official name). It was black and my Dad purchased it for her at Arnold Constable ( when’s the last time you heard that name?). It cost $250 in 1972 ( which today would be worth about $1500). I had this bag because this was in the very early days of punk rock and vintage. I loved this bag, and my Mom did, too. She would not let me carry it, because it was so expensive. So, I snuck it out of the bottom drawer of her dresser and into my friend’s Mercedes.

We walk into the store and make our way back to the hard liquor. At that time, I drank Jack Daniels ( you could drink at 18 in 1982). I smell them and hear them before I see them…hamburgers? Yep, they had a very small counter in the back of the store where you could by hamburgers, cheeseburgers, fries. So you mean I can buy a cheeseburger, a bottle of Jack Daniels and a 6 pack of Bud in the same store? Welcome to Washington DC! I order a hamburger and cheeseburger for me and my homegirl and she is chatting with the guy who came in with us. She’s holding the bottle of Jack and he has a bottle of Coke. I grab the burgers, get the beer and get in line behind them. He is holding her by the waist and turns around to look at me. Fine, so fine. I could feel myself melting into his gaze. We put all our stuff on the counter. We open our bags to pay, but he pulls a $20 out of his pocket, pays for everything (this is 1982) and we walk out the store, with him carrying our bags.

My friend in fumbling for the key in her purse, because she was hoping he would ask her for her number (this is a classic move). She is standing at the rear of her parent’s car and he is standing about 2 feet away from us both. Now I open my purse and realize I have my MontBlanc pen. My parent’s got it for me when I graduated from High School, not 6 weeks before this. I had it, my phone book, my wallet and my makeup kit in that bag. I turned around to offer it to him, to show him that he may have wanted her, but that I was no slouch. I opened my mouth to say, “Here, use my pen” and found myself looking down the barrel of a gun. It wasn’t that big and was the kind you use when you play Russian roulette. I looked at him and then my friend. She was looking at the gun, too. Her purse was hanging open off her arm. He looked at us both and said “back the fuck up”. We didn’t move so he said it again, this time a little louder and a little stronger. I immediately back into the car and jumped. He said “put your bags on the car and turn around to face it. It seemed like forever, but we both managed to do it without saying anything else. He took my friend’s purse, my purse and our bag with our liquor and food. And then he ran across the street, in between 2 cars and into the night. It took us about a minute to gain our composure and figure out what was happening. We had just been robbed! He took all our money and the key to my friend’s parent’s car. He hadn’t. She had put it in her pocket, so that we had. But we had no money to get home, and she was supposed to go to this program. We were already late. All I can remember was going to a pay phone and her telling her parents that she’d lost her purse, but not the car key. Her parents were not happy, especially because she was with me, but they told her she should come home and they would figure it out. We got in the car and literally made it home with the gas we had in the car, and could not pay the toll. Most we just drove through and at the Verrazano told them our purses had been stolen in DC. The toll booth clerk was very empathetic, but made me fill out paperwork with my name and address ( I was now driving). I was too dumb to lie, so I filled out my real name and address. When it came to my home, I broke down and told my Dad what happened. He was disappointed but didn’t tell my Mom. I did not want them to know I was not going to Howard to use the library, but was there instead to hang out and get drunk..

I never told my Mom about her purse. She was not well and died a few years after that happened. I also never told my parent’s about my pen. I just said I lost it, and denied using my Mom’s purse.

My friend went to Howard, where she met and married her husband. They live in California and are right wing conservatives. He grew up a Mormon and made her convert to marry him. She and I are both much so much different than we were that night. But on the occasion we get together, we always talk about how fine our robber was and how naïve we were then.