jesse kaellis en Lifestyle, beBee in English, Writers Bally's. Trop, Dunes, Caesars, Sahara. Landmark, Barbary, State Line, on and on. • 21 joints. I counted them again. 10/11/2016 · 2 min de lectura · +200

Get used to it

How I look to other people 

Get used to it

Get used to it

A woman I met on an Internet dating site invited me over to Victoria for the Dominion Day weekend. The weather was beautiful, and I had a very pleasant trip over. She met me at Swartz Bay, and we drove into Victoria for lunch.

I hadn't been to the Island in 15 years, and the town had grown a lot. It is like a boutique city now. It reeks of money.

The next day, Dominion Day, we went to Sydney. I hadn't been there in 38 years, and it also had grown. There were a lot of people around for the various festivities.

We had fish and chips, and then we went to a souvenir shop, and I bought a key fob, a big orange beetle embedded in plastic, and it glows in the dark.

It was sunny and warm. I felt relaxed. This lady was an excellent host. It didn't go anywhere, her and me. We got ahead of ourselves. No hard feelings; at least not on my part.

She says to me, "People are always staring at you, and it makes me angry!" I started laughing. "You better get used to it, babe, if you want to hang around me." Hehe; I'm a fucking star.

I am used to it and I take it for granted. I understand what I look like. Sometimes it is tiresome, but there is nothing I can do about it. Usually, I enjoy the attention. 

Later that summer I took the train into Vancouver. It was my day off. It was another nice sunny day. I was wearing a black tank top. I shave my head, and I am heavily tattooed. 

Sometimes I feel like showing my ink. On the way back to New West the train stopped at the Joyce-Collingwood Station. I was seated on the fold down seat next to the second set of doors and the platform was opposite to me. The train was stalled on the platform. We were the third car down.

A female officer, a cop, walks by the car and she is looking. She is blond. She looks to be in her mid 30's. About five foot eight and maybe 150 lbs. She steps into the car and walks through looking at the passengers. The car was full but no standees. All seated. Maybe thirty people on the car. But her eyes kept coming back to me. I was alert but relaxed. I understood that a little drama was unfolding and that I was going to be at the nucleus of it. 

She checked me out twice, and the last shot was; she held my gaze. And my look was naked, direct and intense. Because I was waiting to see what she would do. She looked tense. I could feel her tension. 

She exits the car and walks out of sight then she returns. She stands in front of me and holds my gaze. My eyes are hard but not hostile. All this time the tension is ratcheting up. I slowly turn my hands out and show my palms. 

She leaves again. A male cop, maybe in his late twenties comes up to the car. It’s her partner. He's a tall, slender guy. He looks intelligent. He is checking out the car. Looking at people but I'm like a magnet. He keeps coming back to me. He’s honing in on me. He steps into the car, and he's looking at me and without a word from either of us I stand and lace my fingers on top of my head. I remain facing him. He steps forward and grabs my shirt on the left side and feels around. He steps back. "Okay." That's all he says. He backs up a little bit turns and leaves.

The doors shut, and the car starts to move. I didn't resent it. These people have a job to do.

Mark Anthony 14/11/2016 · #7

Seems like you found a peaceful and, some might say productive way of dealing with this bull.... Doesn't make it right! I guess the whole "Have to do a job" thing is true. Maybe this catches crooks, people who are maybe going on to hurt others. I guess I have a problem with labeling and making judgments based on what you see on the outside. Thanks @jesse kaellis for another interesting snippet​ of your life.

jesse kaellis 10/11/2016 · #6

Alls well that ends well, Pascal. It was a little drama that involved me.

+1 +1
jesse kaellis 10/11/2016 · #5

Who knows, Ben. I fit a description. Maybe of someone with a gun.

Pascal Derrien 10/11/2016 · #4

We had a lot of that when I was hangin' out in the subway in Paris :-)

+1 +1
Ben Pinto 10/11/2016 · #3

That's some weird stuff about the cops. It didn't end like I thought it would.

+1 +1
jesse kaellis 10/11/2016 · #2

I'm not really sure what it's about, Irene, but I try to keep my dignity and accept it with grace. Who knows? I got a lot of angles. I'm sorry about your husband.

+1 +1
Irene Hackett 10/11/2016 · #1

My first husband had a lot of these same experiences. He wasn't a big guy. He wasn't bald. He didn't have a single tattoo. He was half black. And he did resent it. I could feel the scene you wrote about as if I was there. It brought back memories.

+2 +2