I went to a topless bar in Topeka, once. There was only a single girl dancing in a far away corner, and lots of big biker-type fellows. I sat at the bar drinking my beer, and a topless girl came over collecting tips after her dance. This made me sad, because up close and in focus you could see that she wasn't especially old, but her features made her seem very old -- a phenomenon I had observed previously in prostitutes, who always seem prematurely aged to me.
After the topless girl left, to finish the story, the bikers surrounded me. That was a little odd, and I wondered what I was about to get into, but it turned out alright. The biggest biker asked me if I was a certain fellow (whose name escapes me) who was in the Navy with this biker. I wondered for a moment whether I should tell the truth and perhaps get beat up (they were still seeming a bit ominous to me), or lie over my beer and bullshit my way out of the bar.
I don't like to lie, though I sometimes do it. In this instance, it seemed like a sure way to end up in the gutter, so I told the truth. And then the bikers got surreal, which I had never previously imagined. They asked me if I was sure that I wasn't this guy. Uh huh, and then they asked me if I was from some Kansas town not far away. They seemed unbelieving that I wasn't this guy or some close relative, but not as unbelieving as I that this was happening to me.
They left me alone after that, but you could tell that they weren't exactly pleased that I wasn't this guy, whom I gathered they would've been happy to see. So, being depressed over premature aging and mistaken identity, I walked out of the bar and began playing my harmonica as I walked back to my car.
Halfway there, and in front of a motel, this guy stops me and starts talking to me. I lied and told him that I was hitch-hiking around, because he seemed a bit creepy. He invited me to crash in his room, where he had a buddy, but I declined and said I was happy just walking up the street. Then he got mean and tried to tell me I was strung out on drugs and that he was going to make me stay in his room. Weirdly, I told him that I wasn't strung out and I didn't want to stay in his room and walked away, and he just stood there yelling at me.
Topeka isn't so dangerous, really, but they ask tough questions. Who am I, and what am I looking for? Where am I going, and can I afford the price? I am happy to be alive, falling in love at the movies and thinking about all these things. And maybe I'll find the answers in Egypt, buried in the sand. Or not.
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