The Traveling Salesmen Project: Mykul's Adventure: Leaving Orlando

I stayed in Florida for the weekend to meet up with an old flame from High School. "Jessica" and I dated when we were young but lost contact for over fifteen years. She recently found me on myspace.com and when I told her I would be in Florida she suggested we get together. We had a great time over the weekend but I'm not going to publish the lurid details of our liaison here.

I am, however, going to tell the harrowing tale of an alcoholic salesman in a strange city and how he survived a near kidnapping and molestation.

I said my farewells to Jessica as she departed for home and I was left standing alone, still buzzing from the several drinks I'd had over dinner, with a thirty-five pound piece of luggage and a ticket for a flight out of Orlando a mere fourteen hours hence. I bought a tall coffee at Starbucks, not because I wanted the coffee so much but because I wanted to use the heavy paper cup to disguise the Chianti I was planning on pouring into it. Jessica and I had eaten lunch at a place called Grape. We drank wine. She drank white. I drank red. We ate hot Brie with sun dried tomatoes on garlic pita bread and smoked salmon with cream cheese, capers and horseradish sauce on a toasted baguette. She bought me a bottle of the wine I had imbibed at lunch to enjoy later. It was later. So I drank down the coffee as I rode a bus to a part of the city I hadn't explored and when I disembarked with an empty cup I promptly walked to an unlit area of a parking lot, unzipped my luggage, uncorked the bottle, poured a full cup and started to drink clandestinely.

I walked a few blocks, sipping my wine and dragging my luggage when I noticed a red neon sign advertising "Massage". I strolled liesurely along the sidewalk infront of the stores of the stripmall, past a closed Christian gift shop with statues of Jesus and Mary staring judgingly out the window, past a Dentist Office, past a bookstore. I stopped in front of the window to the Massage Parlor, set my bag down, leaned on a post with my back to the window and lit a cigarette. With a quarter of the smoke still left an attractive asian woman in her mid thirties stuck her head out the door and said, "You want massage?" her accent as thick as her mascara. I recognized her ethnicity immediately and said in Korean, "I'm just resting. But since you asked, how much?" "Wow!" she said in her native tongue. "You speak really well." "I lived there for five years." "You wanna come in..." she said with a seductive smile. "I'm broke." Her smile cracked like a windshield hit by a rock. "Besides, if I did come in you'd end up wanting to pay me and I'd end up feeling guilty for taking money from such a sweet, innocent girl." She smiled again but then told me to "go well" and ducked back inside. I walked the streets for a couple of hours, sipping my wine. It was a beautiful night, warm and moist. I started walking towards the airport, about eight miles away. I walked until the sidewalk ended and the street lights vanished and my bottle of Chianti was empty and the Starbucks cup was tossed by the wayside. Cars sped buy, their drivers hurrying home or to stores before they closed or to get out of the house and away from the family for a few minutes or to pick up strangers walking down lonely, unlit roads. The silver Corolla slowed and stopped on the shoulder in front of me and the passenger window rolled down. "You want a ride?" the man in the driver's seat asked. "I'm heading to the airport." I replied. He reached over the seat and opened the door. I unlocked the rear door and put my suitcase on the back seat and then took my place in front. After the customary introductions and inquaries "Albert" suggested I go back to his place and take a shower before my flight and maybe even have massage. "Thank you" I said, "but I'm not interested." He seemed to accept that for a moment but then added that I wouldn't have to do anything, just relax. He liked to suck, he said. I turned and looked at him. He was about my age. Not an unattractive man. Very kind looking and "normal". I decided to be honest. "You know Albert, I've given rides to women who were walking hoping to get what you're hoping for. Sometimes I got it and sometimes I didn't. Tonight you're not going to get it." I saw his face fall and almost heard his heart drop into his stomach. "I appreciate the ride but if you're going to try to push it further or if you want to spend your time with someone more promising you can just let me off up at the next light." He looked at me and gave a slight nod. As the car stopped and I got my bag out of the back seat he looked back and said, "You have really nice legs." "That's because I walk a lot." I said and wished him good hunting. I arrived at the airport four hours before my flight was to leave. I checked my bag and pondered weather to find a semi-comfortable spot to sleep or to get an energy drink and stay up until I boarded the plane.* At 10:00am I was in seat 1F with my eyes closed and didn't wake up until the other passengers and luggage were being unloaded in Durham, North Carolina.

*Don't expect to purchase an energy dirnk such as RedBull or Rockstar at the Orlando Airport. They don't sell any, not even at the bar.

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