THE WEIRDEST DUDE I EVER MET

I'd like to take this opportunity to introduce you all to Randy.
He is, in fact, the weirdest dude I ever met. We were best friends for about 4 hours one summer day in San Diego.

You see, once upon a time I freaked out and bolted across the country in 3 days, whence I landed in San Diego without a dime.
The only work I could find was as a bicycle taxi (pedicab) driver in downtown area otherwise known as the Gaslamp District. The area was a typical, mid-90s, riverfront refurbishing project, complete with all varieties of franchise restaurants and a new ball park all erected within a 5-year span of corporate investment.
In case your not aware, prior to this restoration, downtown SD was one of the most notorious shit-holes in SoCal. It wasn't even a ghetto, it was just an unpoliced shantytown of dealers, pimps, hos addicts and sailors on leave. Even in the present, you only have to go a block out of the redeveloped area to find abandoned lots full of squatters, and there are constantly schizo, homeless dudes with USMC tattoos who make scenes and expose themselves in the middle of the street on Friday night. Anyways, I usually worked nights, but on Tuesday’s this cruise ship would come in and I'd usually go out and try to scam some tourists on $50 an hour bike tours where I would completely make shit up and act like it was for real and that I'd been living an San Diego my whole life. Some examples of my schtick:

1. "If you look over to your left, you'll notice the gorgeous skyline of downtown San Diego. Its a little known fact that any new buildings taller than 50 stories have to look like something. For example, that building looks like a Phillips head screw driver, see that one - it look like the flat head. Oh yeah - thats my favorite - It looks like Superman’s fortress."

2. "To your right, behold the the oldest boat in America"

3. "Our downtown Hooter's was actually voted best in the nation. We're very proud"

etc.....So one fine day I'm cruising the harbor in board shorts and a tank top, looking for suckers and this spectacular nut-job flags me down.
He hops on and says:
"Take me to where the whores are"
"What"
"You know, whores, hookers, girls, this $15 bucks is burning a hole in my pants"
"Uh..."
Apparently Randy had been at sea on a merchant marine vessel for at least a decade and was expecting to find the old Dego. I tried to explain to him that I just didn't know where the whores were. His first reaction was disbelief, then sadness.

"This place used to be better than Singapore"

In leu of prostitutes, I suggested something to eat. Eager to have a friend Randy hired me as his driver for the day, bought me lunch and about 5 Jack and Cokes. It was a pretty good score I thought. Basically my job was to listen to this dudes story for an afternoon. The man had led a pretty hard and solitary life. He'd been at sea mostly since he was 16 when he left his Texas home with no formal education. He'd been all over the world. Rarely it seemed, did he venture out of view of the red lights of whatever port city he happened to be in. He had a beer gut the size of a prize pumpkin and faded tattoos the length of his arms. Randy did possess one very unique talent. He had an uncanny ability to insert profanity, not just in any sentence, but actually in between syllables of any word. Two examples:

"Re-goddamn-diculous"
"Abso-fuckin'-lutely"

At certain points in our conversation, which revolved around prostitutes, I became genuinely frightened. Some excerpts:

"One time I had a whore in India, she wouldn't let me touch her tits. Man when I'm paying for a woman, I want to be able to touch her tits. Boy did I get mad"

"Man, I cant believe it around here. Things have really changed. Used to be able to get a girl for 5 or 10 bucks, and young too. Say, you sure you don't know where to find the hookers" (this about 3 hours after our initial conversation)

"Oh yeah man, you've really got to get out to Indonesia"

All the while, Randy maintained the wild-eyed look you see captured here. Anyway, after few hours, I dropped Randy back at his hotel and shamelessly took what appeared to be the last $75 in his wallet, telling him it was my going rate. As I went off to surf the sunset, I couldn't help but wonder what would become of this guy. From his condition at the time, my guess is that he is currently patronizing that big brothel in the sky. But maybe, just maybe, this lonely old scalawag found a home somewhere and settled down with a mail order bride, or some kind of human-traffic-victim slave-teenager. Well, wherever you are Randy - you sick motherfucker - thanks for the booze.