You know a lot of things happen to me in the day-to-day events of my life. I’ve been on a TV Game Show, jumped out of perfectly, good working airplanes, and have been courted to run for public office by people who represent all three political parties. But Wednesday night, something occurred that made me scratch my head and give me good comic material for the rest of my life.

I was meeting a friend for a couple drinks at the Living Room Lounge on 9th and Pennsylvania in downtown Indianapolis. My place is in the downtown area and the LRL is in walking distance. As I was on my way, I got a call from a source on a story so I started talking and taking notes. As I do that my buddy drives up in his car and I walk over to him and start talking. I lean on his driver side window while I talk to him and on the phone. This will be important to remember later. While I finish one conversation and start another a cop drives up. He parks behind us and looks at us. I look back. My friend looks back. And we look at each other with a puzzled look on our faces. He decides to go park and meet me in the LRL. The cop drives off.

I thought to myself the officer probably thought there was some sort of drug deal going down, so I don’t blame him for being vigilant. But I wasn’t dressed like a drug dealer (I was in my Eddie Bauer shirt, Gap khakis, brown belt, sandals, with matching watchband. There’s no excuse for looking horrible even if one is drinking Miller Lite. Hey, if looking good were easy more people would do it.) My buddy and had our drinks, got caught up and later went our separate ways. He e-mailed me the next day telling me that odds are the cop did not stop us because he thought one of us was a drug dealer, but that I was a male prostitute. I’ll let you catch your breath.

Apparently, I’m told, there is a problem with male prostitution by the new library. So apparently the officer suspected I might be one of them. I didn’t think I was dressed like one. I wasn’t wearing anything revealing and even my Eddie Bauer shirt only had one button undone. So I was still taken back at being mistaken for a male prostitute. I’ve been mistaken for a lot of things; being rude, arrogant, obnoxious, conceited, overbearing, self-centered, and borderline narcissistic, and they’d probably be right. But I’ve never been mistaken for a male hooker.

And then I thought about, why take it as an insult, when I can take it as a compliment. Think about it. First of all, the fact that someone would actually pay money to have sex with me is novel concept in itself. All this time, I’ve been doing it for free, or in the alternative paying for dinner and the movie. So maybe I should rethink my modus operandi. Secondly, there is a certain irony in the fact that I am also an attorney and there are some people who will say there is little difference between a lawyer and a hooker. Well there is one difference, the hooker stops screwing you once you’re dead.

Now I don’t blame the officer for doing his job. As someone who spends 80 percent of his time in the downtown area, I want it to be clean and safe. And the entire incident did give me a little chuckle and a funny story to tell. Of course this bit works great for the comedy act, however I think a co-worker might have taken this too seriously. He left me a note and $20. I’m afraid to touch either of them.

Posted: 05|19|06 at 9:56 am by Abdul Hakim-Shabazz
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