Public Transportation
The first time I met Rob I suspected he had issues of some sort. Maybe mental health, maybe some mild MR … something.
At the time, I was working for a rehabilitation facility in Columbus. I was a Job Coach — I’d help people with disabilities find employment, and then go to the jobsite to provide additional training and support. The point being, I was familiar with folks with varying degrees of special needs and I tried to be sensitive.
I was at a Sunoco station north of OSU campus. I must have been at a full-service pump because I remember I was sitting in the driver’s seat when Rob walked over and introduced himself. His approach seemed a little uncommon, but nothing alarming. He was friendly enough.
We talked just a minute before the attendant who was filling my tank came over, looked at Rob and said, “Get out of here. We don’t like your kind around here.”
Like I said, I thought Rob likely had some mental health issues. I thought the way the attendant talked to him was in poor form and vowed never shopped at that Sunoco again.
Time would pass. Probably just about six months — which would have taken us into the winter months.
I had flown somewhere and returned to a snow-covered Columbus, Ohio.
I caught the bus at the airport and started my trip to north of campus. At the downtown stop Rob got on. He was sitting several seats in front of me and across the aisle; I didn’t recognize him right away.
At some point early in the ride he turned around, caught my eye and started making odd hand gestures. My first thought — even though I’m a sensitive male — was if there’s a weirdo on the bus … he’ll find me.
The hand gestures continued, conversation eventually followed, and he told me his name was Rob.
“Rob,” I said, “I remember you. I met you at the Sunoco this past summer. You live up around Northern Lights.”
Rob seemed a bit caught off guard, but that didn’t slow his delivery.
He told me he’d been downtown — and I’m sketchy on some of this not because of the years that have passed, I just never had a firm grasp of the whole thing — visiting a buddy and his girlfriend and that the three of them had been engaged in some sort of activity that would take this entry to an R or XXX rating. His description of what was going was somewhat vague, but could have really meant only one thing. And as I type this I’m reminded of an LA Law episode in which the guy who would eventually go on to be Dharma’s dad gets arrested by a female vice cop — she thinks he’s trying to solicit sex for money from her when, in fact, he’s asking about the food at an Asian restaurant; I think the thing that pushed her to make the arrest was when he asked, “How much is the five-finger roll?”
(I can’t find anything about Asian food and five-finger rolls in Google. You hard-core LA Law fans will remember the episode.)
Anyway, Rob and I were not talking about food. The conversation I think he was having with me seemed to put some context to the hand gestures he was making earlier. He went on to tell me his father was unhappy with some of the choices he made … again, probably not menu choices.
The ride would soon be over. I was getting off just north of campus. Rob was going to Northern Lights. I wasn’t sure where it was, but I knew it wasn’t anywhere near where I lived.
The bus rolled up to my stop. I got off. Rob followed. And this caught me off guard. Was Northern Lights closer than I thought? (As it happens it is about 6 miles up the road.) Did Rob have business in the University area?
As Rob and I walked he continued his rap. Still being a bit vague he continued to tell me more along the lines of his father being unhappy with some of the sexual relationships he’d been involved in. I thought that maybe he was trying to tell me he was gay — which, even as a 27-year old from a small town — I was cool with. I told him that it was important that people be comfortable with who they are.
As we walked Rob turned up a side street and I kept going straight. Rob stopped, looked at me and asked, “Don’t you live up here?”
This is when I had the ah-ha moment. Rob thought he was coming home with me!
“No. I’m a few blocks up.”
The rap continued. I continued telling Rob that a person had to be comfortable with himself and the decisions he makes in life in order to be happy.
It would seem I was not catching Rob’s drift as much as he would have liked. He was, looking back, thinking I’d figure out what his vague references might really be about, but I was just too stupid to catch on. Subtlety was not working.
Rob finally said, “Well, I’ve puffed a pipe or two in my day.” Except he didn’t say puff and he didn’t say pipe.
“Rob,” I said calmly, “You’ve got to be careful who you say things like that to. Not everybody is going to be as understanding as I am and eventually somebody is going to push you down in the snow and step on you. Like I said, we all make decisions in life. I’ve decided I’d really rather not hear any more of this. This is my street. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later.”
(I really don’t think people decide to be gay; sexual preference comes on us at birth. And I don’t know that Rob was gay, but I’m guessing the guy at the Sunoco was more put off by Rob soliciting male customers than anything else.)
