While walking along with a friend in the heart of Soho in London's famed Piccadilly Circus, I lost track of her for a few moments. I was standing there on the street corner around ten at night, looking around for her, when this dark-complexioned man dressed in a white hat with a feather off to the side, long white heavy fur coat, and laced up boots, came up to talk to me.
Me, being just 18 years old and from a small town of around nine thousand people in the Midwest, didn't think a thing of starting up a conversation with a total stranger. Even one who looked like a pimp. He began to ask me all sorts of questions in another language and motioned for me to follow him over to another area of Piccadilly. Thankfully, my friend noticed that I was missing and came over to where we were standing. She took one look at the man in the pimp clothes and her eyes grew wide. Being older and much more worldly, she grabbed my arm, none too gently, and pulled me out of there, practically dragging me down the street, breathlessly chastising me over and over with... read more >>