On the Road Trip

In 1995 I was heading towards a payphone on the other end of Vondel Park in Amsterdam to call my friend Todd when I got mugged. A couple of guys with knives jumped me from behind a parked car and demanded my money.

I was calling him to tell him a funny story. My parents thought we were gay lovers.

Now, laying on my back with $800 and my passport hidden around my neck like the one ring to rule them all, I wasn’t thinking of the story’s punch line. But it comes to me now.

It was all my fault. All of it. The closet behavior, the wandering the streets of Amsterdam by myself and the loneliness. I could have avoided all of this with better choices.

In the summer, my friend Todd and I were watching the NBA finals when the game was interrupted to show a white Blazer being pursued in Los Angeles by the LAPD.

Todd looked at me and said, "Do you want to go see a Shakespeare festival before you go to Romania?"

Watching OJ lead the police on a 40 mile per hour chase led me to this foolish decision: "Yes."

The crazy thing was, this Shakespeare festival was in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, 1400 miles away from our apartment in Columbia, Missouri. I’m no geography buff (well, actually I am, but it doesn’t fit with the storyline) but I think 1200 of those miles were in the Dakotas alone.

When I found out, not being a geography buff (see above editorial comment) I said, "Well, as long as we’re in Saskatoon, we might as well see my folks in Seattle."

Seattle is around 1100 miles from Saskatoon. Nearly all of that within the Saskatoon city limits.

To which my friend Todd said, "Well, as long as we drive to Seattle, would you mind stopping by to see Travis in San Francisco?"

To which I said, "Nope, wouldn’t mind at all." Our least poor decision, being that this trip is only 820 miles.

My Parents: So, you and your friend Todd are going to a Shakespeare festival in Canada?

Me: Mm-hmm.

My Parents: And then you’re going to stay in San Francisco?

Me: That’s right.

My Parents: And you’re going to stay with us in between?

Me: You got it.

My Parents: How long have you lived with Todd?

Me: Oh, you know, about 3 years.

My Parents: And, you’re happy?

Me: Sure. Todd’s a great guy. You’ll love him.

My Parents: We’re okay with that. Is it all right if Todd sleeps on the couch?

I should have realized what impact all of this should have had on my parents. I never had a girlfriend in college, and only one in high school. Several of my friends actually were gay. I can’t blame them. Me. Todd. No girlfriend. Shakespeare. San Francisco. Shakespeare. My feather boa.

Me: Uh, yeah, that’s fine.

As the muggers ran off, holding on to a decoy wallet I had carried just in case I were to get mugged in Amsterdam, I walked back to the Flying Pig Hostel determined to call my parents and tell them two things:

I had just been mugged.

But, not to worry, because I was perfectly straight.