Favors
2005-09-12 6:32 a.m.
If my house were cardboard, and you made the request,I�d tear you a half and wish you pleasant rest.
This has been a seemingly endless 3 days of tugging different lengths of string �
Long long ago in a galaxy far far away, I had an entire bank account bursting through the mortar - full of owed favors. I�d worked my way into having the right people owe me the right things from just about anywhere. Free dinners, free nights at the bars (while I was well underage), free clothes, front row or back stage passes to shows, first bid on a few party bills, whatever the fuck I needed back then.
I rarely used them for myself, but rather as a form of currency to get more favors. I was making decent money at the time from a few industrious endeavors. Anything I could possibly want or ask for was somehow �owed� to me through this vast network of backscratchers spanning the city (and in some cases beyond). So I stacked the cash, and eventually allowed that stack to become another favor to offer.
But with money things are different. Money favors have a very serious tone to them. And after some bad experience, I�d decided I�d never loan money, only give it, with the promise that I�d never ask for it back, but should I ever be in need for any amount, they would return the favor however capable.
And that�s how I�ve done the money thing since. Sure, the shady ones still disappear after you give them a few bucks (which is a good thing, as in, worthwhile investment in their absence), but the ones worth their salt appreciate the arrangement and the friendships continue.
Well, after a frantic call from a very good friend of Christmas past, I found myself on the phone with a lot of people I haven�t talked to or even planned to talk to in a very long time. After 36 hours of stressful hunting from half a country away, I�d found myself on a red-eye to Chicago. Unshaven, unkempt, unclean, unsober, phone in hand. I drove all around town looking to get some old favors returned.
Some of these stops were a pretty big deal. Some of these people had received the high end of four-figure gifts from me at some point in the distant past. Not that I expected that large a return, but I did expect acknowledgment. Some acted as if I�d never done a thing for them. Some acted like they didn�t know me. Some just had other plans and other shit to deal with. Most were just broke or just had far more important expenses like families and whatnot.
Don�t get me wrong, I�m not one to beg, and I hadn�t. Merely nonchalant conversations about being in need and let them squirm or jump to the occasion. No need to be forceful. No need to question motives. The world tends to lend priority to those who understand the priorities lent.
Luckily, a select few were understanding and appreciative and opened their wallets or drove to the bank with me without batting a lid. A few others were able to help with other things we needed taken care of. I�d depleted about 70% of my rusty network resources in these past couple days, and probably got about a 20% return in total.
Apparently, there�s no appreciation in favors. Luckily, 20% was a sizable enough amount to make my friend disappear comfortably for a while.
I was impressed that we got it all done by this evening. I figured it would have taken at least 2 days in person, possibly more. We finished his final errands, I helped him pack his truck, dropped off his car where he asked me to and I was done. After this long and terrible day, my old friend quickly and necessarily found his way out of town, and then soon to be out of the country on my tab. I was physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted. No man should have to endure such a thing, especially after a 90 � 100 hour work week.
I had a simple evening planned to revitalize my mind for a bit - but, no luck� she had other plans, I suppose, and asking for a place to stay seemed to be out of the question. Due to my rampage about town, I�d no business asking anyone else around for a place to stay. Too many things I don�t want to explain or lie about. So, back West I go�
I called J and asked for a stylist�s number (for the third damned time in 2 months� damned flaky-ass LA folk). He called back this time with a name and number. I called and I was at her shop in a couple hours. She was a true master of the trade.
�Forgive me for saying so, but it�s nearly impossible not to groan wildly through this.�
I know it�s an awkward thing to say when a stranger is massaging conditioner into your head, but I figured it would have been even more bizarre to start groaning wildly.
�Oh, I know, I love a good head massage�
Very sweet of her to not let that become awkward. My 3-day eternity of a hustle diminished� right down the drain with the soap. Swept away with the rest of my hair. It didn�t hurt that she was adorable. I�m such a sucker for attention, even if I did have to pay for it.
So off I went on a 4 hour drive to hang with P, who I�ve known since 3rd grade. His father was actually best friends with my father in elementary school (complete coincidence). P brought a couple friends, including M, the younger brother of another guy we went to elementary school with. He looked good� lost some weight, nice clean jawline beard and a decent suit. M looked about the same.
�Damn M, I haven�t seen you since your father kicked my ass for bringing a gun to your house.�
It�s funny how the past pops in here and there. M was throwing 5 figures at the Sunday Football lineup, which made things a bit less fun with my measly $60 (would have came off with $500 if the Packers weren�t so miserably bad yesterday). So we walked off and wandered down the strip, beers in hand catching up on the past 5 or 6 years.
Some crazy stories about fights at a recent wedding, 2 instances of kids who don�t look like their fathers, and a bunch of post-quarter-century life-goes-on shit. It was great to catch up. P and I immediately fall right back on track every time we meet up. I mean I used to live with this kid for months at a time every time I got kicked out of my grandfather�s house. And when his dad started losing his mind, he ended up staying with me for months at a time.
But eventually, the likely conclusion reared its slimy head. �Twas time to go. I didn�t mind the blow, I didn�t even mind the old stories, and I barely even noticed Vegas blinking and clanking in the background. But these days, there are lines I maintain� even in the dry desert sand.
P was trying to hook up with his coworker, and if she wasn�t having it, he was going on an escort mission. M was already suiting up for his own expensive evening with a working girl. And I� was westward bound. Shit, I�d rather a head massage and a conversation. Too bad I have to wait another month for the former. The latter� Well, that�s beginning to seem more and more like an oasis on the haze of the desert horizon.
The only amount I�m willing to pay for sex is the cost of dinner, a movie, a couple drinks, some solid conversation and some familiar intimacy. Although I might consider it as a favor.