COULD I HAVE BEEN THAT NAIVE?

Before I died of terminal boredom working for a boss whose only clients appeared to be some very ancient ladies whom I was told never to bill as they had all promised "to remember him in their will."  I hope they did. (He did have several male visitors from the Ringling School of Art who were hoping to borrow his car.)

I found a job at a law firm with several partners as apparently I gave the mistaken impression of knowing what I was doing.  The secretary in the cubicle next to me typed 100 words a minute and was "wild."  During slow periods Lorrie regaled me with stories that proved that she was both wild and progressive.  She was living with a Black man named Boot in 1964 and she told everyone else that Boot was an Indian which no one believed.  I admired her principles on race relations, but now I think she just liked Boot.  The second week I was there Lorrie said a large group of Florida legislators was coming to Sarasota and there would be a gala party.  Would I be willing to be a hostess?  Well, of course, I would!  My grandmother was thrilled and was sure I would meet the governor.  (I did not.)  I was to meet Lorrie at a posh resort on Lido Beach where cocktails would be served.

I saw Lorrie immediately.  She was wearing a bright red cocktail dress and talking to a much older man who turned out to be a Representative from a very rural county who was her "date."  I was introduced to a bland young man who represented Volusia County and who was apparently my date.  I was confused.

Alcohol was flowing freely and there was a great deal of jolly talk. I had a Coke with lemon. Lorrie was complimented on her "pretty legs" and I was told what a nice figure I had.  There was lots of laughter, bad jokes and extravagant compliments as we wandered around the pool consuming endless appetizers.  Somehow I had thought the evening would be far more  fascinating than                    it was turning out to be.                  

At some point the entire party drove to the Mecca for dinner.  Since everyone but me was quite drunk by this time, this was probably not a good idea.

"What's that thing on top of the tower?" asked the Representative from rural Florida.  "It looks like a
woman's tit!"

Neither Lorrie nor I could think of a suitable reply so we both studied our menus.  My date looked embarrassed.  Score one for him.  We all ate enormous amounts of delicious food and my tablemates kept on drinking.  I tuned out and concentrated on my plate, wishing I were back at Wesleyan singing the blessing at Sunday dinner. My longing was interrupted by Mr. Sophisticate's beefy hand on mine.

"So, what do you think of that, Missy?"  I stared at him stupidly until Lorrie helped me out in a voice freighted with meaning.

"He was saying that he told a man to get off the sidewalk and stand in the gutter."

"Oh, I guess I must have missed something.  Why did he have to get off the sidewalk?"

"Because he was a nigger," he said.

I looked at Lorrie who was staring into the distance, her face expressionless.  My "date" was flushing deeply.

"Well, I need to get on home," said Lorrie, standing and clutching her purse.

"But I thought you and I were--"

"No, my babysitter will be wondering where I am.  Thanks for a lovely dinner."  And she was gone.  Thank God she had brought her own car. Her babysitter was of course Boot.

"Well, shit," said the Honorable Representative.  "I thought..."

My date stood up.  "Miss Linda, you probably want to get on home too, don't you?" I nodded silently and stood.  He threw a lot of cash on the table, then took my arm.

We both got in his car, saying nothing.

"You don't do this kind of thing do you?" he said staring at the steering wheel. I shook my head.  "Did you even know what you were getting into?"

"No, I didn't realize....I was horribly naive."

He smiled at me.  "I like that in a girl."

Startled, I laughed.  And then he drove me home.