Only in my family would the words Hookers & Vacation be combined into something you reminisce about.

In 1976 we took a family vacation by car and one of the stops was Washington D.C..  After a full day of sightseeing in both D.C. and Virginia we checked in to our hotel and my mother always being prepared, got out the AAA Guide Book for the city to find a place for dinner.  We of course also had a AAA triptik prepared for the trip and a full complement of paper maps – which my father could fold correctly.

A restaurant was found that seemed nice enough but not too fancy given I was 14 and not into fine dining.  If I remember correctly it was called the Steak Joint and turned out to be one of those stand in line, place your order then wait for them to call your number type steak places SOOO popular in the 70’s.

We didn’t take any of our multitude of maps along because my father had been in the military in the early 50’s and stationed for a short time in D.C. so he assured us he knew the area and where we needed to go.

It didn’t take long after we left our hotel in the Capitol Hill area that we were in a less than desireable area of D.C. which back in the 70’s meant one block off any major thoroughfare dominated by government buildings. 

We came to the intersection where the restaurant was located and realized we had passed the pay parking lot that was most convenient to the restaurant.  We of course circled the block in our metallic blue 1973 Pontiac Grand Prix with a white vinyl top.  It turns out going down one of the streets previously, we had passed a group of streetwalkers (hookers) hanging out.  I don’t know if we noticed them but they must have been watching us and when the car came around the block again, this time much slower so we didn’t miss our turn, they started running after us. 

 They thought we were “Cruising Them” and they had work!

They were beating on the car and running up to the windows – imagine their surprise when they finally looked in and saw the Ultimate White Bread Suburban Family looking back at them. 

They ran off laughing.

AWW – Family Memories.

No wonder Huggy Bear didn’t scare me a year later.

As always – 

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I Have An Addiction

February 16, 2010

My addiction is not to drugs.  The picture on the left  is a symbol of my addiction to “Sweet Tea” (I’ll explain in a second).  If you live in Buffalo, New York or some other Yankee type place like south Florida and really don’t know what sweet tea is, here you go.  It is simply Iced Tea that has had COPIOUS amount of sugar added just after it has been brewed while it is still hot.

The picture is symbolic of my addiction because the “Gangsta Rap” name bestowed on me by a former coworker is “SWEET TEA”.  If you live in Atlanta I believe it is mandatory that you have a gangsta rap pseudonym/nickname and mine was given because of my addiction to…… (if you don’t get it now you are not very bright)

Now I have been asked by people “how do you make this sweet tea?”  Actually, I really don’t know.   I buy mine from McDonald’s every morning like most people start their day with coffee.  It costs $1.00 for a 32 oz. serving in a great styrofoam cup which makes it last a long time.  Yeah I know it’s not environmentally friendly, but I like it, so – shut up.

In addition it is served at EVERY restaurant in Georgia – except for a few real Hoity Toity one’s that I am too poor to visit anyway.

Some good alternatives to obtain sweet tea include – Chick Fil A, theirs is very good but it costs more than McDonald’s and sometimes gives me heartburn.  Publix sells it by the gallon as do many fried chicken places including Mrs. Winners. 


I don’t need to know how to make it – I buy it when I am out.  At home I drink Crystal light Lemonade from the mix.

If you want to know how to make real sweet tea at home for some godforsaken reason – check out my friend Kathy Drewien’s Facebook Page that includes a recipe (click here for recipe) or chat her up on Twitter – @kdrewien

As always – 

You can follow me on Facebook at “I am Dazed and Confused” or Twitter – 


Huggy Bear Circa 1970's as Portrayed by Actor Antonio Fargas

Well O.K. it wasn’t Huggy Bear but it was a Black Dude that dressed like him and it did happen in 1977 in Los Angeles so the title of this post creates the mental imagery I wanted.   

Background – When I was 15 my family took a trip to California.  This was a VERY BIG DEAL.  Much like when The Brady Bunch went to Hawaii.  Except I was an only child,  didn’t find an evil Tiki God or meet Vincent Price.  I did get to see a taping of  “Chico and The Man” at NBC.  Unfortunately this was after Freddie Prinze (The father of Freddie Prinze Jr. if you are under 40) had died but Della Reese was still on the show.  During the trip there were some “Dazed and Confused” type of experiences and then there was the incident of the pimp propositioning me at the airport.

In the 1970’s we had learned about teen prostitution from the blockbuster TV Movie – Dawn: Portrait of a Teenage Runaway starring Eve Plumb formerly of The Brady Bunch.  How bad could it be if Jan Brady did it?  

So we had arrived at the Los Angeles Airport and were waiting outside of baggage claim for the family friend with whom we were staying to arrive and take us to their house.  Being an impatient teenager I was walking up and down the sidewalk away from my family.

At one point a guy walked up to me and said “you visiting?” to which I of course replied “yes” and his response was “we ought to do some sightseeing while you are here, here’s my number” and handed me a folded piece of paper which I crammed in to the pocket of my then everpresent Blazer Styled Jeans Jacket without even looking at it and probably said something like “O.K.” and walked on.

At whatever point I opened the note it said – Marcus Ph.# 555-1212, XXOOXX

Now maybe I’m being dramatic and the guy was just being nice and wanted to take the boy with the feathered hair sightseeing.  But I’m still suspicious since  he had on a three piece black Velvet suit with a matching hat.  We learned in Dawn: Portrait of a Teenage Runaway, that meant he was a pimp.


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