One painfully cold Friday evening, I stepped out of my apartment block on Sansome Street, downtown San Francisco (SF) with a bag full of dirty clothes to go do my laundry like I did bi-weekly.
By this time, I had been living in SF for almost eight months, I was a Graduate student, studying International Business at HULT International Business School.
San Francisco was a strange city to me, first of- the LGBT community was huge and very expressive, I had come across many she-men on the bus, on the train, on a waiting line at Starbucks that I thought for sure, that’s a pretty lady until I heard their voice. When I say, the community was expressive, I mean that in all the words!
SF is an expensive city, it seemed like only the rich and might in the Tech industry lived there yet I had never seen that many homeless people sleeping in the streets. I soon realized that, you’ll rather be homeless in the city and beg for arms since most people used the bus, train or even walked than in the suburbs where most people drove cars.
San Francisco has a lot of sights and tourist attractions, as a matter of fact almost every day I’ll get a stranger ask me “could you please take a picture of me”. The first two months of being in SF, my roommate and I lived in an apartment the was on top of a strip club on Broadway Street, actually most of the buildings on Broadway starting from Sansome towards the Pacific Heights) had some kind of strip club or adult toy store, another Jaw dropping moment for me- story for another day.
I was wearing my (wanna be Uggs), some black leggings and my ever faithful pink and black hoodie- if that hoodie came back to this world it would probably run away from me. I rolled my laundry bag, through the streets towards China town, it was about 25 mins walk from my apartment. The laundry was located on a street laced with lots of nice looking restaurants with outside seating, I particularly remember this Italian restaurant- every time I walked past I would smell the fresh bread sticks been baked or the Parmesan cheese being grated on pasta’s, don’t ask me how I could smell that from the street, my wandering taste buds and nostrils can small good food from a mile away. Every time I pass by, I wish I could go in for a nice plate of pasta but I was a broke student in an expensive city- every penny counted.
I got to the laundry, loaded the washer with my one load, regardless of the color mix, inserted the quarters that made up to Two dollars and twenty five cents for one wash and sat down facing the door like I mostly did waiting for my wash to be done and start the drying cycle. Right across from the laundry is a burger shack, Gourmet burgers I remember, they had a small chalk board outside with a list of their offerings for the day and the prices- fourteen bucks was a lot for a burger to me at that time, I would have calculated in my head the pot of Chicken stew and rice I could make with that amount rather than waste it on some Gourmet Burger, so I mostly sat there just observing , enjoying the scenery and watching the chef at the shack cook the burgers since it was an open cook top style that entertained the customers as they had drinks chatting away while waiting for their burger meal.
On this Friday I noticed a group of friends, maybe colleagues at the shack seating together at a large table and having a good time, in my mind I thought- I guess after work they decided to come for a happy hour or maybe it was their practice every Friday night to try out nice restaurants and shacks in the city, all kinds of thoughts crossed my mind that day as I watched and dreamed of when I will be done with school, get a job and go to any restaurant I do damn pleased.
My thoughts were interrupted by this nice looking man, he wore some black jeans, a nice and expensive looking leather jacket with black sturdy boots. He was a tall middle aged Caucasian man, probably six feet two inches, before he even spoke I thought to myself, what does George Clooney want with me in this laundromat. He said Hi, I noticed his bright white well-arranged dentition- now that I think about it, he probably had veneers, I said a very happy and cheerful hello back to him and he started his story along these lines.
My name is George Clooney, I’m visiting friends in the city, it’s my first time here, San Francisco is an interesting city… bla bla bla, So what do you do, I told him I was an international student here for school and before I could finish what I was saying he jumped in saying, do you know where I can get pot (aka weed)- you know I’m visiting, I don’t know the city that well, you are a student you probably know someone who can get me some, I giggled like a sheepishly saying oh noooo, I know lots of people in the city do stuff like that but I sincerely don’t know where you can get some, then I went on about how I had only been in the city for a few month, I’m here for my master’s degree all the way from Nigeria and I just came to do my bi-weekly laundry- before I could finish talking he left the scene, I was in shock, rude shock, like hold on Clooney, we just started talking, don’t you want my number….
Still in my disappointment and shock, I saw him walk up the street, cross over and walked back down towards the burger shack, he looked like he was looking for something or someone, my mind was still wondering why this visitor in the city was prancing up and down the street, next thing I know right across from me at the burger shack he walks up to the group that I earlier noticed, pulled out his police crest and flashed it across their face… I was in SHOCK, even more shock than I had initially been, immediately I realized I had been profiled. OMG this clown thought I could have been a druggy probably because of the color of my skin, I was enraged, I was praying and hoping Clooney would walk back my way, I had planned and scripted what I would say to him, I was so upset to think that this fool, looked at me, cold broke and hungry and thought I could be his lead to drug dealers, even as I type this I’m really irritated. I started to think to myself that day, did I look unkempt or rough, why me?
That was it, I didn’t even notice what was going on around me anymore, I waited quietly till my clothes got dry, emptied the drier and quietly walk back to my apartment. Unfortunately this is the sad reality of many people, getting judged and some even losing their lives just because they look a particular way. I forgive George Clooney, he was probably doing his job, every single time I went back to the laundromat the memories of that evening came back to me.
Thank you for reading my story- The entire story is my true personal experience no fiction what so ever. George Clooney is obviously figurative considering the good looks of the police office, I sincerely don’t think I heard his name.
Thank you for reading all the way, check out other posts and I hope you enjoy!
Peace!
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