Dan from Camelot Music and I sat in a fiberglass booth, dipping french fries into our vanilla shakes and eating plastic hamburgers. “Frankie Say Nasty,” Dan said, and wadded up his burger. A cop walked past us on his way out the door.
“Hey, why do you dress like that?” he asked me.
“Because I want to,” I said.
“That’s not an answer.”
“Why do you dress like that?” I asked him.
“It’s my uniform.”
“No it isn’t. It’s who you are. You’re a cop.”
“So that’s who you are?”
“Yeah. Is that against the law?”
He shook his head. “That’s not who you are.”
“How would you know? You just walked past my table.”
“Because I was just like you. How old are you — 19? 20?”
“Trying to find yourself,” he said, and then he smiled.
“I know who I am.”
“Trying to find yourself,” he repeated.
“I’m not the one hiding behind a badge and a gun,” I said.
“Okay. You come see me in 10-15 years. We’ll see who was searching,” the cop said, and he walked out the door.
Dan and I went back to dipping french fries into our milkshakes. A cashier ran out and wiped down the policeman’s now empty table. “Are y’all in a band?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Dan said. “Frankie Goes To Hollywood. Have you heard of us?”