Harper Saves the Day

Finding the bar at the Hilton empty, we decided to see what was going on at Confluence, the Catawba Riverkeeper bar in Cramerton. The band was still playing, but things were winding down, and when I say band, I mean a dude playing acoustic guitar and another dude on standup bass.

Confluence is super low key, and technically not a bar, as all ages are welcome, and people bring their kids, which is fabulous. It’s a big, open space with a typical horseshoe bar in front, tables chairs, sofas near the stage in back. Dartboards, a small sidewalk seating area, and restrooms all the way in the back. There’s a map of the Catawba River painted on the floor, and there’s jewelry for sale that’s made out of recycled materials claimed from the river during Riversweep, when volunteers get in their kayaks and remove debris from our local rivers.

We belly up to the bar and order two pecan lagers from Sycamore brewery. They’re delicious. Although we’ve visited many times, I’ve never used the facilities at Confluence and made my first visit to the gender-neutral, one-at-a-time bathrooms. The photo under the title is a selfie in front of the mural in the bathroom. This gem is posted in an appropriate location, best bathroom sign I’ve seen addressing this issue:

After browsing the jewelry and listening to a cover of the Dead’s “Brokedown Palace,” I stepped outside.

“Brokedown Palace” took me back in time to 1989 and my first mushroom trip. I understood the meaning of life and the universe listening to that song. Unfortunately, I was unable to retain it, and life has since been just as much of everything it was before the deep understanding. Back to the present.

I chitchat with a guy sitting out there for a few minutes, then a young woman on the sidewalk comes up to me and starts talking. Zero boundaries, wild and free and open to whatever life put in her path. We talk, and she offers to buy me a drink. I graciously accept. She’s kind of touchy-feely, and I begin to wonder if she’s trying to pick me up. My husband joins us, and it’s all good.

So we’re all talking, and she asks if we want to go to another bar with her. I’m out to promote myself (yes, I gave her a link to my page), so I’m going where the night leads me. Everyone is a potential future reader. She asks the bartender where her book went, a Stephen King novel. It’s gone.

We’re standing out on the sidewalk in the delicious October light of the moon, and this wiry guy in a tiedye who just seems a bit off to me tells her that he picked up her book and put it in his truck. The something ain’t right vibes intensify. He tells (not asks) her to walk to his truck with him to get it.

No fucking way. I’m about to speak up, but I don’t have to. She tells him no, that she’s going with me, and he can walk his ass down to his truck and fetch her book back to her (I may have embellished this statement). He starts walking. All the way up the sidewalk. Around the corner. My husband is back with our car before creepy dude comes back. Where did this guy park? On the moon? And he wanted her to walk with him out of the eye of the public street? Not on my watch.

A month or two later, this flatbed truck that probably isn’t legal to drive in North Carolina, what with the steering wheel on the right, approaches. It’s him. She looks at me and asks if I’ll walk over to the truck to get her book. She’s legit scared to be in arm’s reach of the guy, so of course I do. I’d squash him like a bug if he tried anything with me. When I approach, I watch his face change expression. I do that. I like to catch people in that nanosecond when they lose control of their face, thoughts and intentions laid bare for less than a fraction of a moment. If you’re not paying attention, you’ll miss it. There was a flash of anger, maybe even rage before he pasted his “I’m such a great guy” grin on his face. He held the book out, I took it, turned my back, and got in my car without giving him any more of my attention. On the way to our next stop, she tells us that he had followed her all night, back and forth to all three of the bars on that block. I remembered seeing him walking behind her on the sidewalk when we arrived.

This message is for all young women, and I told her this: anytime a man is making you feel unsafe in public, make eye contact with an older woman and say, “Mom, this guy is bothering me.” You’re a total stranger, but we were young and vulnerable once, and we remember. We will have your back, and keep you safe. Strength in solidarity. Guys, if you sense that a woman is uncomfortable around you, back the fuck off.