Are y’u workin’?

I answered “No” smiling at the eyeglassed man in the pick-up truck. He had pulled up beside me moments earlier while I was walking down Hastings Street on my way to the

Waldorf. I was dressed in jeans, a blue vinatge leather coat that has been sewed together regularly cause leather has a tendancy to outlive fiber, and lastly I had my hoola hoop swung around my shoulder. This man began to pull away but said “Hey!” I turned and backtracked a few steps.

“Is that a hoola hoop?”
“And what do you do with that?”
“I hoooooola hoop.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m heading to the Waldorf. Beats without Borders is happening tonight.”
“Music from all over the world”
“And you, are going to hoola hoop?”

He grinned and hit the gas to maneover left into traffic. As I neared my final destination, I glanced him peering out at the crowd of people from the adjacent side street. He turned the wheel right, and continued on down Hastings in search of his final destination.

Every now and then I get asked if I’m workin’. I answer no. I see many women say yes. I respect that. I also respect the fact that anyone on this planet has a right to ask me anything they want. I also have the right to say or do nothing in response to anyone’s questions. If during this question/answer period I had said “Yes”, he would have reached his final destination with me. An exchange of assets would have occured. Maybe you think it is pure luck that I am not picked up regardless of my answer and raped and then thrown back to the street. I like to believe that one’s honesty is respected on both sides. This John respected me. I respected him.

This all transpired around 11:00PM. I danced for a good hour. I then joined some other hoola hoopers on the sidewalk facing hastings and twirled up a storm. I learned some new tricks from one hooping man and then some more from another hooping woman. We also tought about 20 different people, who happened to be walking or driving by, how to hoola hoop simply because they asked.

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