“Homeless But Not Hopeless” — A Chitchat With a Man Holding a Sign

I had an unusual encounter today. I was back from buying tea from the grocery store across the street when I saw a black man in his late 40s-early 50s holding a sign. I could read the first word which is ‘homeless’.

Having a few quarters in me pocket, I stopped, smiled, and got the coins out and handed them to him. Only for him to say: I don't take no money.

You rarely ever get that reaction from someone who looks homeless and is standing in the street with a sign. I then decided to read the rest of the sign so I may better comprehend, and it read: Homeless But Not Hopeless.

“Ah. So you're here to show the sign and spread the message? I asked.

Yeah.

Well, I hear you. Have a good day, Brother.”

I went back to my room and made a cup of tea, but the brief encounter was all over my mind. Then it hit me: Since all he wants is to spread his heartfelt message, being a writer and photographer with some online presence, I should assist him in getting the message out.

I took two sips from the tea, grabbed the camera, and went down rushing. Unfortunately, I couldn't find the man. I saw the guy who works at the mart of the gas station so I asked him about the sign man who was just standing there.

He said he probably left this way, signaling to Washington Blvd, but he's here everyday. Alright then, I'll hopefully see him again and get him and his message in a photo or video and upload it online. Who knows, maybe it goes viral and he gets some kind of help. You know these things happen in real nowadays thanks to the virtual world.


15 minutes later, I saw him again standing in the same spot by the gas station. So I went to him, explaining that since he doesn't want money I could take a photo of him to spread his message.

“I don't do that.

Well, how do you want to spread the message?

I don't want.

Then what do you want if you don't want money?

I said I don't take change; I could take bills.

Aha (I must have misheard him).

Do you see how the struggle is real?

Yeah. You know, I'm currently homeless too, but I'm originally all the way from Egypt.

Salam Aleiko,” he smilingly blurted out.


I said that now that I know his struggle, next time I see him I'll have a bill for him. Then I left.

As I was crossing the street, I reached my hand in my pocket and found a few one dollar bills. So I just turned around and went back to give them to him. I introduced myself, we shook hands, and he said his name was Malik.

Somehow the brief chitchat led to him telling me, one needs to have faith in Allah.

I nodded yes, then said that, “Allah is within us all, you and I included. ‘He’ is not an old man in the sky holding a big book. Everyone one of us is part of this collective divinity”

I could see his eyes widening in agreement.


Malik's last words before I leave was not to do drugs or drink alcohol. Like many homeless people, he must have had bad experiences with one or the other, or both. He now looks clean and sound coherent. But then again, you never know if he's talking about his own past or just in general. Whatever it is, I'm certainly not here to judge the man.

“Well, I've had serious issues with hard drugs in my 20s. Now I'm cleaner than ever and loving it”, I confessed, responding to his well-meaning advice.

“Good for you. God bless you.

God bless you too. Have a peaceful day.”


Another human interaction from the heart of Venice.


UPDATE:

Well, as I have been seeing Malik almost everyday standing there with his sign for over four hours, I began to wonder if he can't stand somewhere else where he can get paid for it — think a security guard or so. Is it because some homeless people are lazy and do not want to work or is it because he thinks he'll be making more money by standing by a gas station holding a sign?

Is this his best option?

ALSO VIEW:

Hotel Living: Then and Now

Personal Questions I'm Often Asked and Their Answers 

 

Give That Man Some Groceries

Countering Gentrification — Eating Cheap and Healthy in Venice Beach [With a List of Places and Their Menus]

 

Funny Hotel-Related Stories

Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: Officer Roberts

Things I Couldn't Quite Understand After Being On The Road For Seven Months 

Why Hippies Are Sometimes Called Bohemians

The Joy of Being a Wanderer and the Credit Card Number

A Dollar & Thirty Four Cents in Me Pocket and Feeling Fine 

When Lady Ran Away

Words I Made Up — The Sequel

Since I was a kid I always loved playing with words and coming up with new ones. Whether they were meaningless or as nicknames for my schoolmates, friends, girlfriends, and pets, the creation came naturally to me.

As I matured and really got into language and writing, I found that, apart from the reflections, my thoughts are often invaded by new, single words. Sometimes I wake up with one in my head, such as ‘Jalapeñonated’ from Words I Made Up, for example. Other times, it's while meditating, showering, reading, or just relaxing.

Knowing that language is beautiful yet elusive and limiting, the lexophile in me now finds exquisite joy to give the made-up words proper definitions. For perhaps someday they could be used in appropriate situations — even make it to dictionaries and thesauruses. Who knows. Because, when you think about it, some way or another all words are made up. So maybe we should play around with language. 

Without being too wordy, I hereby give you the sequel. 



• Winterbating: (v) The act of masturbating during the winter season in order to keep warm.


• Amoonwalk: (n. or v.) Illusory dance move in Egyptian mythology involving major deities gliding backwards.
                                                                                                                                                                                                               
• Hipponotic: (adj. or n.) Something so entrancing and hypnotizing that it leaves you with a mouth right open, looking like a hippopotamus.


• Appaulled: (v) Being horrified by people named Paul.


• Seaguile: (v) To charm or enchant someone in such a way, they feel as though they are flying in the air like a long-winged, short-legged seabird.


• Herbievore: The movie following Herbie Three.


• Besturbing: (adj) Causing worrying and anxiety in the most excellent, outstanding way.


• Inverstibule: (n) Pièce ou couloir d’entrée par lequel on doit passer en marchant à reculons.  (French)


• Maelstrone: (n) Thick vegetable soup of Italian origin containing pasta and a powerful whirlpool. 

“The basic tool for the manipulation of reality is the manipulation of words. If you can control the meaning of words, you can control the people who must use them.”
― Philip K. Dick

ALSO VIEW:

Words I Made Up

Words I Made Up — The Threequel

Words I Made Up — The Fourquel

Words I Made Up — The Fifthquel

Words I Made Up — The Sixquel  

Words I Made Up — The Seventhquel

Words I Made Up — The Eightquel

Words I Made Up — The Ninthquel

Words I Made Up — The Tenthquel

Words I Made Up —  The Eleventhquel

Words I Made Up — The Twelfthquel
 
Words I Made Up — The Thirteenth

Words I Made Up — The Fourteenth   

Words I Made Up — The Fifteenth    

Words I Made Up — The Sixteenth 

Words I Made Up — The Seventeenth

Hotel Living: Then and Now

“I was lunching at this place in Santa Monica and there was a 60-something-year-old couple with a Golden Retriever on the table next to mine. Since I can't really hold myself around dogs, I started petting that sweet creature, which led to a short chitchat with the owners. We briefly spoke about where I'm from and what I do, and also about the book I'm currently writing. When I told them that I grew up living in hotels they both looked at me and almost at the same time they merrily said: ‘Here's another book you could write.’ Then before leaving they asked about my name and were astonished when they heard it. We shook hands and the lady looked me straight in the eyes and said: ‘You will do great things.’ Just a simple interaction that left me with some needed positive energy.”


I wrote the above lines a little less than two years ago. Even though the following is not a book about hotel living, it’s a piece I enjoyed writing while staying at a hotel...


My earliest memory of living in a hotel goes all the way back to when I was 4-years old in Alexandria, Egypt. My father was appointed to Hotel Manager of the Montazah Sheraton and that was when we moved from Cairo to there. He then moved to Saudi Arabia and I went to Cairo to live with my grandparents for a couple of years. When they came back, we moved to the Cairo Sheraton and ended up living there for 17 long years. Knowing that this was a major hotel in the region, it only shows that the man was doing a great job. 



Of course this was an unusual life for all of us — to reside in an actual hotel with housekeeping, room service, laundry, swimming pool, and all these restaurants. It sure was different growing up in such environment. 



As a young boy, I recall that I sometimes wanted a normal house with a building and neighbourhood. You know, like my friends at school. I wanted to have neighbours and to play soccer in the street with the other kids and the ‘bawabeen’ — doormen. Not that this was the norm in mid-80s Cairo, but the stories from my father’s 1950s childhood were always on my mind. 



I often wished to ride the school bus with the rest of the boys instead of having a driver, who worked for the hotel.

Other times, probably as I grew up a little, I appreciated having a driver because it allowed me to leave home in the morning later than all those who ride the bus, hence wake a little later. I could also leave late after school so I play basketball.

In room 2109 at the Sheraton just living a kind-of-normal life

Then as I reached my mid-teenage years, I began to realize that I’m pretty lucky to have that kind of life. I began religiously using the gym, like six times a week, as I also began to have friends and girlfriends coming over to spend the day — usually at the pool. I got to know lots of people throughout the years, though I never had many close friends, only a group of maybe five or six real ones was always more than enough. 



At the time, none of the boys had a private place to go to with their dates. In fact, some of them had to drive to Maadi — a relatively far neighbourhood — and put a cover on the car to be able to get some privacy and play. Others had to go park somewhere on the Cairo-Ismaileya Desert Road (highway)…at night. This was around the time when most of us began legally driving at 18. 



I, for one, despised car action. In fact, much later I learned that a teenage boy who gets caught fooling around in a car by a cop, or a parent, or any kind of authority can later in life develop erection problems — or erectile dysfunction (ED). That’s because the memory keeps haunting them as they keep replaying it over and over in their heads. No doubt such early traumas can equally affect females.


One major thing I am grateful for is the way my parents brought my sister and I up. I am certainly grateful for more things when it comes to them, but this is related to living in hotels in particular.



My father would always tell us to shut the light in your room or bathroom if you’re not using them. And if you’re not having lunch at home, then let us know beforehand because we cook for you and your sister everyday.



Knowing that we did not pay for the food or electricity or water, this still made sense. Not because we can order from room service or eat by the pool and sign a check which would later be rebated, then we shouldn’t think about these things.


My mother was more general; she would constantly remind us that this kind of unusual, luxurious life wasn’t going to last. And I always knew that. 



Fortunately, we never had more money than sense. 



As a teenager at the time, though, I still couldn’t fully value these early lessons. Let alone my younger sister. Only when I matured a little and we left the hotel and I had my own place for about 10 years, have I truly understood their meaning. Growing up living in hotels, we could have easily turned out to become spoiled assholes if we were exposed to a different upbringing.


Enough with reminiscing about the past, let us now fast-forward to right after this decade when I lived alone. 



Afterwards I moved to Canada for a few years, then again to the U.S until this very day. I had already started writing my book and was looking for novelty and inspiration through traveling.



Then after a tour throughout the U.S, which lasted almost four months, I arrived to Venice Beach in California and instantly knew that this was it, at least for now. The right amount of crazies, the right amount of artists, the right amount of conscious people; the weather is amazing all year through; the beach is right there; and last but definitely not least, the Drum Circle. I found this Bohemian hood to be a truly inspirational place to live. 



On and off I have been residing in Venice for over two years now. When I recently went back to Egypt, the place I was renting was sold, which means I’m currently back to the hunt for affordable rent. And thanks to Gentrification, that’s no easy feat.

This last trip has actually reminded by how my life there is filled with comfort and abundance, which also reminded me by why I must leave it. So I keep leaving.

Since I was still in Cairo, 

I have been trying Craigslist, AirBnB, and other Facebook L.A Rentals groups, but no luck until now. The alternative was to take a bike and pass by everyone I know in the area and ask them. As you may already know, I like to ‘connect’ with people. So from Steve on the Boardwalk, Jose the bike guy, Mani the server in Lemonade, to Honey the Hawaiian lady from the tobacco shop, I told everyone what I’m looking for and exchanged contacts.

Words of mouth can sometimes be more effective than searching online. You never know, the universe does work in mysterious ways. 

Echoing with Honey's encouraging words: “Keep manifesting.”

During this search time, I had been staying at my aunt in the Valley. After about three weeks there, I realized that it’s not convenient to be looking for places in Venice while I’m so far away. So, I called up my buddy Awad, the Egyptian receptionist/concierge/guest service from the Jolly Rogers Inn where I have spent multiple weekends before, and asked for a room for the long President Day weekend. 



After knowing about my dilemma, on my last day at the Inn Awad offered me a weekly “long stayers” rate — it’s a slightly older, unremodelled room.

I pondered for a moment…



My own room, AC, hot-ass high-pressure shower, fridge, microwave, fast and reliable Internet, the comfy bed, the clean white towels and sheets and pillows, the small jacuzzi-like pools, housekeeping, having someone on call 24/7 (think a burnt out light bulb or a clogged toilet), and more importantly, the location of the property — 1.2 miles to the beach, or 6-7 minutes by bike. 



One of the two small pools in the hotel is just underneath my room

Perhaps above all, it was the special rate I was offered; it was the same as what I was paying for the room in the shared bungalow during that last year, including taxes and all. Despite having a full kitchen, a spacey garden, and the full bungalow to use, I was still sharing a bathroom and there was no AC or pool.

Nevertheless, 

I am still willing to pay the same for a one bedroom with private bath in the area. This arrangement, as I previously mentioned in Countering Gentrification — Eating Cheap and Healthy in Venice Beach [With a List of Places and Their Menus], leaves me about $20 for food per day.

The slightly frustrating thing is that with the same rent in Venice, one can afford a fancy two-bedroom apartment in so many other places around L.A —with pool, sundeck, Jacuzzi, 24-hour fitness centre, billiards, air hockey in the building. Only that you have to move further from the beach, which in my case, as someone who uses a bike to move around, is not something that would benefit me much.  




The normal rate at the Jolly is about $100, with a rack rate of $170, which I doubt anyone really pays. The one I got, however, was actually quite appealing. The room is right there and I’m not sharing anything with anyone.

All these things considered, I spontaneously agreed and made my first weekly payment in advance.



Later that day, I went back to my aunt’s house and brought my one luggage and one handbag.  


Hotel living...and writing


Of course being settled like that in a hotel made me relive 20 years of my life of being a ‘guest’. Since we left the Sheraton in 2001, I don’t remember staying for long periods in hotels, usually because they are expensive. Ten days have already passed since I first arrived at the Jolly and everything seems to going seamlessly.

Being an organized minimalist, I only need housekeeping once a week, mainly to change the bed sheets. Though as I came to realize, there are even more perks: No worry about washing or drying any linen or towels, not even attempting to fold those damn fitted sheets. Endless supply of toilet paper, tissues, lotions, and shampoo (not that I use the shampoo myself). 

So as you can see in the below video, the room is kept clean and tidy, the garbage is taken out daily, and all is under control.


The property may not be a 5-star international chain — only 3, which isn’t that bad — and I’m not the son of the General Manager. There are no pool cabana, fancy restaurants, room service, or laundry. In fact, I suspect that one of my next doors neighbours lives between the room and his car, the other appears to be an actual homeless person who until quite recently was living in the street.

But, I am a step closer to where I want to be. So for now, and until I find that affordable place, being here seems reasonable…and affordable. Unlike the hotel life I was born into, this time it’s my own choice, which itself is based on my own priorities.

The stay reminded me by how I used to hear from my dad that so and so was an extended-stay guest and had a special treatment — along with a special rate. Those people were often artists, some of whom were writers, others were singers and dancers who worked at the hotel and whose contracts included the accommodation. Long-stayers could also be training and business folks; of course those don’t have to worry about rates since they are almost always covered by their companies.



I saw the same when I later worked in hotels for seven years. And always, the longer the stay, the better the room rate becomes. 
This was the time when I saw hotels from a totally different perspective. Obviously the long hours and the night shifts could not match with living there. Yet, it still remained an experience which had taught me quite a few things — about life and, more importantly, about myself.


At the time, I didn’t really understand those who willingly chose to live in a hotel. Now that I myself am a freelance writer on the road, I can relate to those long-stayers. At the moment, I am enjoying being a “homeless” wanderer. I am enjoying this captivating state of never arriving, this state of transience. There is a certain freedom to having my luggage ready for leaving at any time I wish. 

As I found out, the creative excitement such a fully nomad, unattached life-on-the-edge can bring is truly exuberant.

When all you need is a luggage or two, one also feels light and unburdened. That’s because ‘Stuff’ weigh us down. 

Interestingly, there is a book by Paul Carr called “The Upgrade: A Cautionary Tale of a Life Without Reservations”, which tells the story about giving up his flat in London and permanently living in hotels around the world.





Just like everything in life, as there are advantages to hotel living there are some disadvantages as well.



Personally, I do love to cook. So unless it’s an apartment hotel with an en suite kitchen/ette as we used to have in the Sheraton, I’m not too certain if I can keep living in a hotel room or even a suite for the rest of my life. After all, I have already spent half of my life there. A reason why I’ve written before that I think because I've spent 20 years living in hotels I can mentally afford living pretty much anywhere for the next 20.


By the time I was done with this article, I had to do something about the food issue. So I got a burner and a pan, mainly to be able to make the morning eggs which are essential to my veggie diet. 



Mission eggstraordinarily accomplished

Another concern is that I would have to either have a garden or a balcony, since this is where I usually take my breaks from writing. Then again, many hotels offer such accommodation, probably a tad more pricey than my rate, depending on where one is in the world. 

An additional drawback for living on the road is strictly for dog owners. Even though some hotels allow dogs, sometime for a certain fee, others don’t.




In summation, full-time hotel living is an outré lifestyle and it isn’t for everybody. The idea of not having a permanent residence or being ‘homeless’ may appear scary to many people. But for those of us who enjoy it, these sojourns can be highly adventurous, learning experiences…even wild and romantic at times. This makes them worth writing about. 



Now if you excuse me, I've been writing for quite a while so I'll grab a glass of rosé and a smoke and go chillax by the tiny pool in this magnificent City of Angels' sun.

A sign at the pool that I have never, ever, seen before. I later found out it has been required by law in
California since 2013.

ALSO VIEW:


Personal Questions I'm Often Asked and Their Answers 

Funny Hotel-Related Stories

Countering Gentrification — Eating Cheap and Healthy in Venice Beach [With a List of Places and Their Menus]

Things I Couldn't Quite Understand After Being On The Road For Seven Months 

Why Hippies Are Sometimes Called Bohemians

The Joy of Being a Wanderer and the Credit Card Number

A Dollar & Thirty Four Cents in Me Pocket and Feeling Fine

World Art Through My Lens 

Some Soulful Travel Quotes

OLS Reflections Dreiundzwanzig

“Breathe”

• Man’s true greatness lies in how humble he can be.

• Trust is the foundation of every healthy relationship; make sure not to shake it too many times.

• Sometimes what we need is a warm heart rather than a brilliant mind.

• We are all messengers. Some souls get to know it in their current human form, others have to pass through more lives before finding it out.

• The ultimate attitude is embracing solitude.

• The more you understand, the more you realise there is so much more to understand.

• We do not become grateful by being happy; we become happy by being grateful.

• Sometimes, I ask people questions which I can easily find the answers to just to let them open up.

• The right question is often more important than the right answer.

• Dare saying an honest ‘YES’ and an honest ‘NO’ without having to explain yourself.

“Reflections of a Contemplator”

ALSO VIEW:

OLS Reflections

OLS Reflections Deux

OLS Reflections Vier

OLS Reflections Khamsa

OLS Reeflections Yedi

OLS Reflections 八

OLS Reflections Ten

OLS Reflections Onze

OLS Reflections 13

OLS Reflections Quince

OLS Reflections Sixteen

OLS Reflections Dix-Huit

OLS Reflections تسعة عشر

OLS Reflections Veinte Uno

OLS Reflections 22

OLS Reflections Twenty-Four

OLS Reflections Vingt-Six

OLS Reflections Ventisette

OLS Reflections Veintinueve
 
OLS Reflections 30

OLS Reflections Ein Unddreißig

OLS Reflections  إثنان وثلاثون

OLS Reflections Thirty-Three

OLS Reflections Trentaquattro

OLS Reflections 37

OLS Reflections Trente-Neuf

OLS Reflections Forty  

OLS Reflections Einundvierzig

OLS Reflections — The Spiritual Edition 

OLS Reflections Cuarenta y Cuatro

OLS Reflections 45

OLS Reflections Quarantasette

OLS Reflections — The Unpublished Edition

OLS Reflections Forty-Nine

OLS Reflections 50 

OLS Reflections Cincuenta y Dos

 

OLS Reflections Cinquantaquattro

OLS Reflections पचपन 

OLS Reflections 57

OLS Reflections Cinquante-Neuf
 
OLS Reflections Sesenta y Uno
 
OLS Reflections ثلاثة وستون 

OLS Reflections Soixante-Cinq

OLS Reflections 67

OLS Reflections Sixty-Eight 

OLS Reflections 69 

 

OLS Reflections Soixante-Douze
 

OLS Reflections Settanta­quattro

 

OLS Reflections Seventy Six

OLS Reflections 77

 

OLS Reflections Setenta y Ocho

 

 

 

Random Stuff You May Not Know: Five

1- Shrek is Real

Just like how Popeye was inspired by a real life person, a tough guy from Illinois named Frank “Rocky” Fiegel, the popular cartoon Shrek did also exist in real. Indeed, the ogre head was modeled after a real person, Maurice Tillet (October 23, 1903 - August 4, 1954), a Russian-born French professional wrestler, better known by his ring name, The French Angel. The man was actually highly intelligent, he was a poet and a writer who could speak 14 languages.

In the beginning of his life he had none of the physical attributes he would eventually become famous for. In fact, his nickname as a child was ‘The Angel’ because of his beautifully angelic appearance. Then at 17, his hands, feet, and head began swelling to disproportionate sizes, prompting doctors to diagnose him with a severe form of acromegaly — a condition often caused by benign tumors that accelerate bone growth.

The French Angel was twice recognised world heavyweight champion by the American Wrestling Association and remained undefeated for 19 consecutive months. 

2- Lobster Conga Line [Video]
 


Every autumn, a large number of the Spiny lobsters living in the shallower waters around the Bahamas begin marching forwards while forming straight travelling queues that aggregate into long chains. Also known as langoustes or rock lobsters, the animals keep migrating to deeper waters, forming chains which can swell to hundreds of individuals.

Each lobster maintains contact with the one in front with its antennules and anterior legs. The chain is led by the most active individual, while the one at the very end assumes the role of a rear guard. The theory behind this peculiar phenomenon is that it is done to conserve energy — by travelling in each other’s slipstream. 
 

This mass migrations may last several days, with lobsters walking both night and day. Despite encountering changing currents and seafloor topography, they mysteriously continue marching in straight lines. The storms rage in the blue waters of the Caribbeans during the Autumn months, causing the shallow zones to become more turbid. So to avoid this commotion, lobsters head towards the deeper ocean.

Check the eerie sight in the video below.

Come on, shake your body baby, do the conga

I know you can't control yourself any longer

*Footage taken from Blue Planet and The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau.


3- Not the Sunset at the North Pole

After rechecking the authenticity of this image, I found that it is NOT a photograph as commonly claimed online. But rather, it is a work of art called ‘Hideaway’ by a young German artist named Inga Nielsen. The artist was studying Astrophysics when she produced the work in 2006 using Terragen — a scenery rendering software. Since then, the image has been falsely circulating online as a photograph titled “Sunset at the North Pole”.

 
4- Not an Abandoned Polish Wedding  

Another falsely circulating photo with “A wedding in Poland was abandoned due to the German invasion in 1939. They were found again after the war with the trees growing through them. They are repainted every year”, as its description. In actual fact, this is an art installation by French conceptual artist/sculptor Patrick Demazeau. The work is titled “Les Quatres Saisons de Vivaldi” and was created in 2001 along the road between Haut-bois and Faulx in Namur in Belgium.

 5- The Japanese Town Where Everyone Wears a Mask

Miyake-jima is an island in the Izu group, southeast of Honshū, Japan where all citizens are required to wear a gas mask at all times due to poisonous gases leaking up from the ground. Resting atop a chain of volcanoes, Miyake-jima is a hub for volcanic activity. Over the past century, the volcanoes have erupted six times. The worst of these occurred in June 2000 when, after a repose of 17 years, Mount Oyama erupted. A staggering 17,500 earthquakes followed the eruption, which hit the island between June 26 and July 21.

Have they been wearing masks during the recent Covid pandemic, I wonder.




ALSO VIEW:

Random Stuff You May Not Know

Random Stuff You May Not Know: Two

Random Stuff You May Not Know: Three

Random Stuff You May Not Know: Four

Random Stuff You May Not Know: Six 

 
Random Stuff You May Not Know: Seven

Random Stuff You May Not Know: Eight

Random Stuff You May Not Know: Nine

Random Stuff You May Not Know: Ten

Random Stuff You May Not Know: Eleven

Nations’ Did You Know

Useful Home Tips

Some Useful How-To Videos
 

Bizarre Random Facts

What's the Story with Blue Balls (and Blue Vulva)?

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Sex Party

Just like many of us, my buddy had always had a curiosity towards sex parties. Having never been to one, the idea of people freely playing around sure stirred his interest. Apart from porn, he may have seen people smooching, fondling, and groping in raves and clubs, but never was it a legitimate “sex party”.



I know the guy enjoys sex, though he had always been somewhat reserved about it; he mainly did what he fancied behind closed doors. I also know he’s a tad picky and not into sharing his energy with just about anyone. 



Looking for otherness and adventure, once he was in Los Angeles he did some research and found out about a club nearby where they hold these parties — usually from Friday through Sunday. Some of them are for everyone: male/female couples, bi, gay, TGs, CDs; others are more specific, such as TGirls parties and BBW (Big Beautiful Women). All these events are alcohol free.


The idea of going to said parties flirted with my buddy’s head for many months. His mind was open enough to check and see what it's all about. However, not knowing what to expect, and the fact that it's not his scene, he kept on hesitating. He later moved away from the area before going back the next year. And the parties went back to haunt his curiosity. 

One day as he was checking the club’s schedule online, he found that their next weekend attraction is a glow stick party for all. After a little bit of pondering, he decided that this would be it. It’s time to explore unknown territories. Alone. 

The bugger didn't even call me.

For the few days before the date, he kept replaying different scenarios in his head, fantasizing about what it would be like. But he later stopped, because expectations can easily ruin some of our coming experiences. 


Then came the chosen day. He got up in the morning deciding to stay extra healthy — to keep that healthy mindset. So eating light and no drinking. Later in the afternoon as it began to get dark, he almost had second thoughts. He proceeded to snap out of them, convincing himself that this is the time to check one of his fantasies off the list and make it a reality.  



“You're hours away from ‘knowing’,” he said to himself. “Whether you’ll like it or not, at least you would know. It obviously remains something to see.”

He actually already knew that a significant number of people who attend these parties do not get into any kind of action. They either enjoy watching or simply just enjoy being there, surrounded by the energy of this sexual freedom. It certainly is one way to break away from the shackles of the mundane daily life. “So yeah, be the observer,” reassuring his slightly reluctant self.  

An hour before the beginning of the event, he took a shower, wore all black, hat and all — trying to be as incognito as possible. Not that it really mattered, since it’s highly unlikely he would meet anyone he knows or who knows him. I think he did it to get into that “Eyes Wide Shut” ambiance. 



On the way there, he had that adrenaline head and body rush he longed for. Exposing himself to new naughty things — new taboos — made him feel alive. 



By 10 pm, he arrived at the club which is located at the back of an adult store. He already sort of knew where the entrance was, though, possibly being in some kind of a daze, he still went straight towards the guy behind the counter.



“You’re here for the party? 



Yes.



Entrance is at the back from the outside.”





The girl at the door asked if he had been there before, to which he said No. She gave him a paper to sign where they are asking if you have any STDs. Being a single male, he had to pay a ‘donation’ — all other single females, couples, TSs, CDs get in for free — and was given a glow stick upon entrance. There was a bowl of free glow-in-the-dark condoms at the door.

He was already familiar with the common rules of such parties: No means no. Ladies — or ‘Ladies’ — are the ones who get to choose. To be respectful of people's boundaries. And, of course, to always play safe.

Once in the darkened club, he wandered around, discovering the area. Some women, more men, and some CDs — a wide variety of them, actually; tall, short, Asian, pretty, not-so-much.


Given the location and the entrance ‘donation’, the general level of attractiveness was nothing too high. In others parts of L.A, there are much higher-end, exclusive parties that take place in secret locations, some of which requires memberships and strict screening...and $500 entrance fees. So he knew what he was getting himself into; he knew there wasn't going to be super-model types of humans. And he decided to enjoy the novelty, nevertheless.

In fact, now there are snuggle parties, group massage parties, sensation play parties, masturbation, swingers, BDSM, and whatever else parties — exploring all kinds of kinks and styles. Not only in L.A, but in N.Y, Portland, and San Diego, too. This wide variety of parties equally exists in other parts of the globe and not just in the U.S. Welcome to the Free Love World of 2016! Humanity has indeed come a long way. 


In one of the corridors of the club there is a powder room. This is where the ‘ladies’ go in from the back door to dress and get dolled up. And its door is usually kept closed.

The place had other door-less rooms with beds next to each other, separated only by thin walls. Other smaller chambers have shagging chairs and a variety of dungeon furniture. Then finally there were booths with doors, for more privacy and more standing action, I guess. 


About 15 minutes through, he could spot a woman giving a blowjob to a bald man sitting a few feet to his right. Other men, and some CDs, would come stand close to them and watch, some would be touching themselves. Being a dark place only lit by glow sticks laid on the ground made the view quite fuzzy and dream-like, which added a mysterious essence to my buddy’s first-time experience.

Five minutes later, a chap in his early 30s sitting on the couch next to him was approached by a TGirl. She whispered in his ears as she touched his Gentleman Sausage before they both headed to the privacy of the booths.

Our observer then realized that things were so simple and straightforward. No “let me buy you a drink” or name exchange or any of that other bla-bla chatting-up we find at normal clubs. Just a look, a smile, some incognito action, and then bye bye. Casually and respectfully. No complications. No dating. No ‘call me’ or ‘marry me’. It sure is a different scene which he was glad to explore.


After about an hour and a half there, my buddy left the club and happily headed home.

As he later told me his story, I couldn't help but ask if he ended up by doing anything. He simply gave me a mischievous look and smiled:


“What do you think, Mr. Writer?”

I think he now may be comfortable enough to take a date with him next time.


Until the next adventure of my incognito friend.


ALSO VIEW:


Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Italian Belly Dancer

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Stain on the Levi’s Shirt

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Girl Who Came

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Nine-Months-Pregnant Woman

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Reliving a One-Night Stand...13 Years Later

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The 17-Year-Old Lebanese Belly Dancer

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Three Girls, One Perfume

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Threesome With Two Virgins

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: A Woman, Her Girlfriend, and the Girlfriend’s Friend

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Mother of Six Who Drove for 50 Hours

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Another Sex Party 

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Ten Days with a Charming Older Woman

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Neighbour’s Lustful Guest

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: 22 Years Later — Once Teenagers Now Adults

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Affair With an Older Married Woman