The Tri-Cities Doppelganger

Apparently I have a doppelganger somewhere in Atlanta. People keep asking me if I went to Tri-Cities High School. Yeah, I didn't. The thing that bugs me the most, is that dumb question that follows: Are You Sure???. Of course, I'm sure. Like I don't know where I went to school. Or if I decided to lie about it, then why would I change my answer just because you asked a second time. The first time I noticed this was this girl at my job. I noticed she was staring at me, but not in that normal "Rashan, I want you" kinda way. LOL. Anyway, I had no idea who she was, but finally after a few days, she decided to speak. This was over a year ago.

"Did you go to Tri Cities?"

"Nah, I didn't go to school up here."

"Are you sure?"

See, that stupid question. I was pleasant about it, but she asked me several more times over the coming months. Apparently, I look just like him. I mean, obviously I wasn't who she was looking for unless I changed my name, or if she never knew that guys name either. A few months later, somebody else asked. This time a guy at the office:

"Ay, dawg. You look real familiar. Did you go to Tri-Cities?"

"Nah."

"You sure?"

Son, come on! I just told you that I didn't go there. I went to school in Savannah. I don't know who this dude is, and whether he owes you money, but I'm not him. Could you please stop looking at me? Again, I'm wearing a name tag. Is Rashan Jamal that dude's name? No, then I guess you can stop giving me that skeptical look.

Then today: I'm getting my hair cut at this barber shop that I've never been to. I'm sitting there getting my hair when the barber asks me.

"You mind me asking where you from?"

"I'm from Savannah."

"Oh, cuz I was about to say, you look just like this n*gga I went to Tri Cities with."

"Nah, wasn't me."

"You sure, my n*gga? That cat, I can't remember his name, but he had that good hair like you."

"Yeah, man pretty sure it wasn't me."

For real, I wonder who this nameless dude is and why these people who are at least 5 years younger than me think I'm him. Apparently, they know him, but they can't remember his name and he must look an awful lot like me. To be honest, I don't even know where Tri-Cities High School is. The only reason I know what it is from an Outkast song. I didn't grow up in Atlanta, didn't move here until I was 25, and I don't know these people. I only hope that my doppelganger doesn't go committing any crimes and send the police my way. Seems like it would be hard to convince them that I'm not him...

7 Days In Savannah: Lady Lou's

7 Days in Savannah is a recollection of my time growing up and being a young man in Savannah, GA. All stories are true and relayed to the best of my memory.


I have a confession to make. I used to be a bad boyfriend. Well, not bad bad, but I did some stuff that could be considered not cool. Chalk it up to youth, but when I was in college, I used to frequent a booty club and my girlfriend didn't know. Knowing her, I know she would not have approved, so I just didn't tell her. Let's go ahead and make that confession sound even worse. I used to go after I left her house. I never rushed out of there so I could go see strippers, but instead of just going straight home, I would stop off at Lady Lou's for a dance or three. I could make all kinds of excuses, but the fact is this: I liked looking at naked women, so I did.

Let's talk about Lady Lou's. It was a dump. A hole in the wall spot on Montgomery Street, right across from the Salvation Army store. As far as I know, it's now a sports bar, but back in 95-97, it was the place to go to see strippers. They never advertised themselves at a strip club. In fact, I don't even know how I found out about it, but once I went, I was hooked. The best thing about the club, was the girls didn't look like your stereotypical strippers. They were just hot girls that you'd see in the hood. And there was no pole dancing, VIP rooms or routines, just booty shaking and lap dancing. If you were lucky, you got a seat in the corner where it was really dark, but if not, it didn't really matter. The girls were still gonna get freaky directly under the spotlight. Oh, and one other thing... it was highly illegal. Lady Lou's had neither an adult club license or a liquor license.

On this night, I was hanging out with Lisa at her sister's house like we did just about every Friday night. I wanna say that we had went to a movie and then came home so she could babysit her niece while her sister went out to the club. That's how it usually happened. I had talked to Kareem and Tori and they mentioned that they were gonna hit up Lady Lou's that night. So when the Lisa portion of the night was over, I decided to meet them up there. It was no more than 5 minutes away from Lisa's sister's crib. I pulled up, paid my two dollars (yes, $2) and looked around the club. I didn't see my friends there, but I sat down anyway. I ordered a Michelob ($2) and preceded to find a girl to give my $3 (yes, $3 for a lap dance) to. As I looked around, I saw another one of my homeboys, Mike, in the corner getting a dance. I tipped my beer to him and he raised his plastic cup at me. I continued my search for the perfect stripper as Aaliyah's One In A Million came on. I loved the beat on that song, so I got the closest attractive stripper to me, and ponied up my cash. As her body gyrated to the Timberland beat, and she got a lot closer than strippers do now a days, I felt a tap on my shoulder...

"Rashan?"

I looked up and saw a tall woman with long black bushy hair. I recognized that face anywhere. It was Kasey. Kasey was a good friend of mine back in high school. She was even a better friend to Kareem and another one of my homeboys, Chavon. She dated both of them. I hadn't seen her probably since graduation, but I heard rumors that she had turned gay. It surprised the heck out of me seeing her in the strip club.

"Kasey? What you doing here?"

"Working. What are you doing?"

Then I noticed what she was wearing. A red bikini set. Well she was wearing for about 30 seconds. Then it was on the floor. Oh snap! Kasey is a stripper. I wasn't prepared for that one. She wasn't exactly the type that you would think of when you think of strippers. Now that I'm older, it does make more sense given her childhood, but all I was thinking was I went to high school with this girl. We were good friends for awhile there. She dated two of my homeboys. I don't wanna see her naked.

I tried to concentrate on the dancer in front of me, but Kasey kept making small talk. Asking me about this person or that person, all the while dancing naked for some other dude. It felt weird. Obviously, most of the strippers went to high school, but none of them went with me. It was the first time that I had experience with someone I knew. All I wanted to do was just enjoy my dance, but my mind was racing. When Aaliyah went off, I paid my dancer and Kasey came and sat down next to me. Great! Now, instead of just seeing her naked, she was sitting next to me naked. And talking to me naked. It was just so weird. This may not make sense to you, but I had very few platonic friends that stayed completely platonic, but she was one of them. I didn't want to see her like that. Plus, it felt like a violation of friendship since Kareem dated her. I tried my best to expedite her leaving.

"Hey, don't you have to go make that money?"

"Nah, I'm good. I can talk for awhile."

"I don't want you to get in no trouble. Just call me and we'll catch up."

"You still got the same number?"

"Yeah, it's the same. Go get your money!"

"You want me to dance for you?"

"NOOOOOO!!!"

Okay, that's what I thought. I was really said this..

"That's a little weird, isn't it. I've known you since middle school."

She moved on and as soon as it was possible to leave without looking too conspicuous, I trotted to the door. As I exited the club, I wondered if I should tell Kareem that I saw his high school girlfriend butt booty naked shaking for dollars. I decided against it for the time being. I squeezed past the police officer that was working security and got in my car. As I was pulling off, I was nearly hit by a police paddy wagon. Then I saw 3 more cop cars coming in the same direction. I figured that the weekly Friday night shooting was in the area. It wasn't until I talked to Mike the following Monday that I found out what really happened.

The police raided Lady Lou's and took all the dancers and customers in. Luckily, only the owners got real charges, but I was so glad I left before it went down. Can you imagine me trying to explain that I was at an illegal strip club when I was supposed to have been home? That wouldn't have went over well with Lisa. They shut Lady Lou's down. It did reopen, but it didn't stay open very long before they got raided again. Luckily, I was nowhere near there that night. I'm glad Kasey was there that night to run me out of the club.

7 Days In Savannah: The Beach

7 Days in Savannah is a recollection of my time growing up and being a young man in Savannah, GA. All stories are true and relayed to the best of my memory.

So, I went to high school with this kid named Chuck. Chuck was, to say the least, a character. He was a tall, yet dumpy, white kid who was already losing his hair by senior year. He was a bit of an outcast. He liked black people, but they didn't like him back. He didn't have too many white friends, other than the other freaks and geeks. Chuck was that dude that had a trunkful of porn magazines, (mostly black women) and brought a prostitute (yes, an actual prostitute to the Senior prom.) His reasoning: At least he knew that he would be getting laid after the prom, even if he had to pay for it. Weirdness aside, Chuck was pretty harmless. Although he looked like the type to pull a Columbine, and definitely had an affinity for guns, he wasn't the type that would actually do it. I wouldn't say that Chuck and I were friends, but we had several classes together and were cordial.

One night before graduation, I ran into Chuck at the Tara Cinemas. It was the movie hangout for our high school, and is no longer there. I was with my homeboy, Ashley if I'm not mistaken. Chuck was with 3 black girls that went to a rival high school. I was intrigued. How did this clown hook up with 3 attractive sisters? (well, 2 of them were attractive, the other looked like a reject from Jurassic Park. LOL) In the course of our conversation, he invited me to hang out with them. For some strange reason, I said yes.

When the movie was over, I left with Chuck and the three girls whose names I can't remember to save my life. We'll call them girl one, girl two and girl three. He picked up another one of his associates, and we drove around for awhile. Small talk was made, but I couldn't seem to connect with any of the girls. We wound up at the Subway on the corner of DeRenne and White Bluff. They ate (I say they, because I didn't have any loot) and we talked about what we were going to get into. Really, there isn't much a motley crew of high schoolers could do. We usually went to football games, but it wasn't in season. Or we went to a movie, which we just came from. It's not like we could go to a club. Girl One (or was it two or three) came up with a fabulous suggestion.

"Let's go to the beach!"

Let me backtrack for a minute. I didn't have a car back then, and the beach seemed like it might as well been in Africa. I know now, that I can get there in less than the time it takes me to go to work, but back then??? That joint was far. Plus it was already 11:00 PM. I wasn't one for staying out all night. I didn't have an official curfew, but I knew not to come home at ridiculous times of the night.

"I don't know. I have to get home soon."

Girls 1-3 clowned me about this. Apparently, they didn't have curfews. Apparently, they could stay out all night. Apparently, I was a lame for respecting the rules. Apparently, I succumbed to peer pressure, because next thing I know, the six of us were heading to Tybee Island.

Here's where the story takes an even worse turn. Chuck decided that we needed something to drink, so he took his receding hairline to the liquor store and bought a couple of bottles of MD 20-20. In high school, I had not even sniffed any liquor, so I knew I wasn't going to partake, but Chuck, the driver did. Chuck was taking the bottle to the head as we drove down the dark highway. I was appalled. I tried to not say something, so the girls wouldn't clown me again, but I couldn't. Chuck was weaving in and out of his lane and speeding.

"Yo, Chuck! Slow down on that drink. I'm trying to get to the beach in one piece."

"I got this. I drink and drive all the time."

Girl One (or was it 2 0r 3) chimed in with her support of the drunken behavior too.

"Shut up, you big baby!"

I slumped back in the cramped seat, hoping that the two girls surrounding me would serve as seat belts, since Chuck's car lacked them in the back seat. I was sure that this would be the night that I would die. I even imagined it, like on an episode of Scrubs...

"On tonight's news, 6 teenagers were killed when there car drove off a bridge and into the marsh. They were then eaten by alligators. We now go to Trisha Takinowa who is on the scene."

I chuckled to myself for having a sense of humor about my impending death, and almost forgot that I was being chauffered by an alcoholic. That is until Chuck decided to up the stakes. Apparently, drinking and driving was not enough of an adrenaline rush for him, so he decided to turn off the headlights and turn up the Geto Boys!!! I was scared out of my mind. Passing cars flashed their highbeams, while Scarface, Willie D. and Bushwick Bill cursed us out though the speakers. I just about lost my mind. I can't say that I was much of a praying man, but I did that night. I prayed that the Lord would protect me from this fool and his foolery. And he did. We made it to the beach safely, although looking at how Chuck parked his car was a dead giveaway that he was drunk. We got out the car and headed to the beach for an evening of fun.

Except it was no fun for me. I was paranoid the whole time I was there. It was dark and I was with 4 strangers and a classmate who turned out to be psychotic. I didn't know if he would just up and leave me, or try to go swimming in the Atlantic Ocean at night. Turns out, he chose the latter. Dark as it was, Chuck decides that he would ignore the warning signs, and test out the waters. He took Girl One (or was it 2 or 3) with him. Me, his homeboy and the other two girls stood at the edge of the water as they went deeper and deeper into the current. Eventually, we couldn't even see them anymore.

At that point, I just threw up my hands and resigned myself to my fate. What's the worst that could happen. I have to call my mom and tell her that I got kidnapped. I've always been a good kid. She wouldn't punish me too much, would she? I felt peace for the first time since Chuck cracked that bottle of MD 20-20. Ten minutes later, Chuck and Girl One (or was it two or three) come sauntering up to the pavillion where we are sitting. They are soaking wet, and the girl is holding her bra and underwear in her hand. I guess Chuck had a good night, even if I didn't.

Luckily, by the time we drove home, Chuck had sobered up. The ride home was much less eventful than the drive there. I looked at the clock as we pulled up to my house and it was 2:45. I wasn't expecting to be out so late, so I didn't unlock the side door to the garage, which was my way of sneaking in and out of the house. I had to take the hit. I quietly unlocked the front door, and to my surprise, nobody was awake. They never even knew I didn't come home at a decent hour. Or if they knew, they never said anything. I went to the laundry room and changed my clothes, and laid down on the couch, and fell asleep. This was one heck of a night, and I didn't want to do it again anytime soon.

That Monday, I saw Chuck at school and he told me they were going out again on Friday. He said, I was more than welcome to tag along. My answer? Not no, but HELL NO!!!