The Infamous Kidnapping

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  A while back, I was sitting at my sister’s house talking about the subject of death.  As I went into my diatribe of my true excitement to meet death one day, I started to rattle off all the times I thought I was going to die and how I truly loved them.

“…like the time I got attacked in the streets in Barcelona and Morocco, or the time that I took the first flight back into the US on American Airlines after 911, or the time that I got kidnapped…”

“Wait…you got kidnapped?”

And then the story began.

It’s a hot summers day in Hollywood and I am racing over to go to the BMW dealership on Lankershim.  I’m 19 years old at the time, with long black hair, a youthful glow, and enough good girl in me to balance out the bad.   I had just gotten out of a bad car wreck and I was going to use the insurance money at the new and used BMW dealership. 

As I shopped around I noticed a large black Escalade roll up.  4 huge African American guys walked out decked to the nines.  The guy driving it in particular had colosal gangster gold chains on, and thick ice covering his knuckles.   For being the short guy of the bunch, he walked out with quite the swagger.  He knew he was boss.

Milling about, pretending not to notice them, boss now made his way over to me and used his quick wits and ninja skills in cat and mouse to try and….I don’t know, win a date?

 “Hey GURRRRL, how you doin?”

“Damn girl, you be eatin’ avocados?  That butt be munchin’ on those ‘cados…”

Yeah….he was doing a real good job.  Now in my mind I couldn’t help but to feel like this innocent little doe with the big bad wolf…but really, it wasn’t that dramatic.

For as utterly stupid were his pick up lines, there was something about him that was charming enough that I wouldn’t want to just slam his cock into the ground  with my stiletto while cackling to the moon.  You know, my normal approach.  He was  just charming enough that I would simply bat a lash, act flattered and laugh off a, “no thank you. You’re sweet but I’m not interested.”  Yeah I know, lame cop out. Totally weak sauce, but let me remind you, I WAS 19!

Anyhow, he continued to play his game. Crack some jokes, try to get me to open up, leave for a minute and then repeat.  Finally I saw him sitting in one of the cars.  A beautiful coup with the doors open, in line with the rest.  As he sat there checking out the interior, he asked me to come sit with him. 

“No,  it’s cool man…I’m just doing my thing.”

:Bat a lash:

:Say a stupid, trite comment that gives very little to attach conversation too:

:Do not seem interesting:

But no…he didn’t catch the signs. After a juvenile game of back and forth, he finally convinces me to sit in the car to have a friendly chat.  Oooooo Kaaaayyyy…fine. 

As I lowered my teenage ass into the seat and my butt was just kissing the leather,  the car took off and we were now on the  streets of Hollywood.  What the fuck?! I thought that was a display car.  What just happened? Where the fuck are we going? I sat there in stillness with a flurry of questions arising and no words coming from my mouth.  Harry…Harry…is that you? Did you just stupefy me? 

As I looked over, this fucking dork has got the music cranked to the most obnoxious level and he is rapping in my face!  I turn the dial down and ask

ME: Dude…where are we going?

BOSS: Just down the street.

ME: No seriously, where are we going.

BOSS: Just down the street.

And then he cranked the music back on and the rapping resumed.

:Knob turned down:

ME: What’s your name

BOSS: Big Daddy

ME: Are you fucking serious? Your friends call you  Big Daddy? That’s fucking ridiculous. What’s your real name?

Now Boss did in fact tell me his name, but I can’t recall it now. Something like Francis?  For now, he’s BD.

As he continues to rap in my face and avoid questions of where we are going, I look in the rear view mirror and I see the rest of his crew trailing us in the Escalade.  “Hmm…great. I’m going to get gang raped and die.  Wow…I didn’t think I was going to die today, but yeah. It looks like it’s shaping up that way.  Hmmm….should I even try to avoid fate and suffer from the stress of it all, or do I just simply surrender and accept death? Well, I feel like I’ve lived every moment fully, so yes. I’m ok with dieing.  I guess I should still try and roll out the car, make a big show of it….will I  get shot if I do that? Weird.  Wait….I’m going to die.”

To this day, that feeling in my perplexes me.  This total peace with it all, and calmness with what could be a tragic fate.  I went through and imagined all the horrific possible outcomes, and thought, man, that's going to suck, but ah well. Here we go. 

Anyhow, as we are speeding down Lankershim and no effing lights are turning red for my easy escape, I finally looked at him and asked

ME: So what, you are your boys going to gang rape me and throw me on the side of the street or something? You know, I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on

BD: GANG Rape you?  Baby girl, I’m just trying to earn your trust?

ME: By telling me your name is Big Daddy and that we’re just going down the street?

BD: Have you ever heard of the Wu Tang Clan?

ME: Uh…yeah.  Yeah I know Wu Tang

BD: Well I OWN the Wu Tang. I AM the Wu Tang!  I’m just here from NY and I’m trying to make friends!

Ok…that didn’t really make sense to me and now he was driving in circles on the streets trying to get me lost.  He kept making irrational turns on side streets making sure I couldn’t remember the route we were driving.

Finally we pulled up to a singular building with a small parking lot, no signs, no writing on the walls, no address numbers posted. Just a blank building with nothing but a steel door and a camera above the door.

Right when we got out the car, the Escalade pulls up and we enter….Here we go. Raping time. 

The room seemed dark and my eyes were adjusting to the light when the image started to fade in, and sure enough it was the  Wu Tang Studio.  There were Platinum records on the wall, and a recording studio with a group called the Black Knights who have since then built up a reputation for themselves. Not to mention a whole other crew of homies just hanging out.

Well shit just got strange.  Am I going to get raped by ALL of these people? I thought it might have just been the 4.  Well, I immediately determine that my best form of defense is to be allies.  So I walked in with all confidence in the world, beaming out of my eyeballs.  You aren’t gonna scare me, I’m ultimate homie chick. I figured, if we were homies, I might have a chance of avoiding brutality.

So I walked in with my Fonz confidence, pointing fingers, giving high fives, introducing myself and I eventually made my way to the hang out room and watch a game of ESPN Women’s boxing.   I flung myself onto the couch, surfing through magazines when this shabby looking dude walked in. Unshaven, hair disheveled, a grey onesie on and mopping the floor…Did they hire a bum to work here? That’s cool.  I casually try to make conversation with this man, the janitor.

ME: Wow…(pointing to the tv) that chick is really awesome

JANITOR: Which chick,  that chick? 

(pointing to this gorgeous bad ass Cuban beast of a Queen relentlessly beating into this other girl)

ME: Yeah of course, that chick

JANITOR: Oh yeah…she’s my girlfriend.

What the fuck? The homeless janitor is dating the chick on ESPN?  And sure enough, this dude comes back and pulls out photo after photo of them together (back when photos were printed).  But then to top it off, dude shows me his drawings of them both, and he turns out to be a Marvel Comics illustrator!  His work was stunning and he had his own comic series.  I felt bad for assuming he was the janitor, but what, homie just likes to wear a janitorial onesie on the weekends and mop?  Seriously God…who dosed my kombucha with acid?  Should I thank them?

My brain was now wigging out like a wet dog from the swamps… My problem now was not only that I couldn’t figure with the FUCK was going on,  or if I  should be scared, my biggest problem was that I DIDN’T KNOW IF I LIKED IT!  I was so far down the rabbit hole now. Things were exciting and non-violent.  There were unfathomable surprises at every corner.  If I was going down, at least it was met with this grand adventure.

Well BD eventually comes back and asks me if I’d like to smoke some weed…College girl, home for summer break….uh yes please…let’s smoke some pot.

Thinking that we are going to smoke in the studio, he then informs me that we have to go get it…Ok I thought, we might as well keep seeing where this is rolling.   So we hop back into his car and he drives a few blocks to this local mart.  He has me stay in the car as he talks to some dudes on the corner…after some time he came back and we were off.  Great I thought, we’ll be back in the studio, kickin’ it with the homies and then I’ll have to stab one of them in the balls if they touch me.

But this thought was fleeting.  Suddenly he had pulled the car over and we are sitting on the side of a street, next to a park.   Great.  BD then proceeds to pull out the fattest blunt I have ever seen in my life…granted I’m no smoking champion and I don’t play charades with George Clinton, but that thing was fatter than a tampon in the toilet.   Windows up, he lit it and began smoking it like a Cuban.  The car started to fill up with smoke as he jibber jabbered about this and that for what felt like forever. Nothing worse than a jabberer. 

Now I’m sitting there frustrated as hell that he hasn’t passed it over.   I’m a believer of the puff puff pass, and I’d like to think that I’m extremely respectful of this practice.  Sure someone wants to go for a third, no biggie….but I would never do that.. But BD, he just kept smoking and smoking, jabbering and jabbering until he was half way through his fatty.  Finally he leaned over and asked if I wanted some.  Sure…and I took it from his hand, put it to my lips and uggghhhh, he had slobbered all over it. Gross.  I felt like I had slurped down a swamp of slobber with tadpoles coming out of my teeth.   Yeah. One hit’s good enough for me.

So I passed it back and he kept going with his yaking, when suddenly the world started fading into black and that slight tingling in my body became an intense buzzing…. Oh fuck. I’m about to black out and then it’s game over.  The world now completely clouded over in darkness and my body wanting to shut down, I knew that this was the time to dig deep.  I fought with every part of my soul and knew I had to stay engaged….With no flippin’ clue WHAT the hell he was talking about, I decided to just repeat words and phrases that I could attach on to…Anything…

“Oh the park?”

“and then what?”

“Wow that’s crazy”

You’ve got to throw out an ambiguous phrase there in the end…Ambiguous expression to accompany.  Anxious to get out of there, I asked to go back several times but he doesn’t seem to hear me and keeps trying to hold my hand.  Finally BD asks, “You want to get some Jamaican food?”  to which I replied, YES!  Anything to get the heck off that street and being in a public place sounded like a really good idea. 

So he drives off and pulls up to a restaurant to which he says, stay here, walks out and then locks the car.  Click. Click. I’m locked in.  What?  I didn’t even know cars could do that.   What kind of trap is this?  But my body was fading and I was so grateful to watch him walk away.  I couldn’t fight holding that presence anymore.   My body was crashing and I couldn’t fucking see!  I started to let my body go, but still fought with a desperation to not pass out.  I sat there in the car swaying my head, banging it against the window, half to stay awake and half because I couldn’t control it.   What the hell did I smoke?  How could one hit do this?

After 45 minutes, BD finally came back to the car with one plate of food that he savagely ate in front of me, spilling rice out of his mouth as he continued to yap like a dog. It was mind numbing and aggravating.  Finally when he was 2 bites from finishing the plate, he asked if I wanted a bite…no thank you. I learned my lesson the first time.

But now, I’ve finally had enough.  I realize in the context of this story, that statement is preposterous, but whatever…it was time to get raped and die or escape with my panties still on.  Still fighting to stay awake and not let him gain the knowledge that I was anything but fine, I mustered up all the composure that I had and made up some outlandish story about how I needed to get to my sister’s for her wedding.   And perhaps the most surprising twist to this story happens now…BD said, “OK” and drove me back to my car.  What? Are you serious? Where the fuck is Ashton?

By this time, night time had settled and we drove back up Lankershim with my car parked right under a street lamp.  On our drive back he insisted that he hold my hand and I decided to let him.  As soon as we pulled up, he jibber jabbered some more and asked for my number as I stepped out of the car.  Still too messed up and overwhelmed with surprise and delight, I stupidly gave him my real number and jumped into my car.  Holy crap! I made it!  Nothing happened but hand holding! I made it!  But wait….I’m still fucking blind and I NEED to drive away from this situation. 

So I started the car and drove to my sister’s home with hardly any sight and on blind instinct and divine intervention.  Thankfully she was just a few blocks away.

Totally shell shocked, I stepped inside her apartment with only her bat shit room mate in the house.  I threw down my bags and put down the fight…but with putting down the fight, the paranoia started setting in.  I suddenly became scared that I would forget to breathe, so I started inhaling quickly and deeply.  Then I feared my heart would stop so I started pumping my arms while breathing. Then I feared I would dehydrate, so I started gulping water, while pumping my arms, while breathing all while my head won’t stop wagging violently.   I’m about to die! Oh Shit, I’m about to fucking die! 

A faint “wah wah wah wah wah” starts to enter my periphery… What? What?  And my sister’s roommate is grasping for my attention, begging for sympathy as she bitches about my sister.  Seriously? God would let me die in this vortex of bullshit with the sweet sounds of “WAH wah wah WAH WAAHhhh” coaxing me to the other world?

AHHHH! What nightmare episode twilight zone did I walk into!  Seriously Ashton, come out. This has gone too far.  You got me...I've been punked.

RING RING

ME: Hello

DAD: Lisa, come home for dinner

ME: No Dad, now is not a good time.

DAD: LISA COME HOME FOR DINNER!

Now in my family, if Dad says to do something, you do it. No matter what.  There is no question or option, you just do it. 

Ugh.  The worst.  I waited as long as I could, then hopped back in the car with 70% vision in tact, the panic fit gone, and the tremors down to a soft buzzing.  I can handle this.

I made it to dinner, and too ashamed to look my dad in the face, I kept my head low and scarfed down my meal…to which he had to respond with a fat comment. Typical. 

I finally made it home to my parent’s that night, having had a miraculously non violent adventure. Laying in my childhood bed, I drifted off to sleep thinking about BD and if he was just extraordinarily lonely, was he telling me the truth about just wanting to find friends, what would have happened had I passed out, what the fuck did I smoke that would do that to me, how the heck did I get out of that unscathed.  I sat in the mystery of it all and the only thing I knew was that I had some hard working angels.

4am

“Yo Lisa”

“What? Who is this?”

“It’s Big Daddy.  You want to go to Vegas?”

“Wait what? When?”

“Now.  I’ll come get you.”

“Um sorry bro, I have school”

and click…

Lesson: NEVER GIVE A BITCH YOUR REAL NUMBER!

UPDATE:
so my girl Aubrey did some research and discovered that the man who abducted me is Big Daddy Kane!

What wiki says about him: Big Daddy Kane, is a Grammy Award-winning American rapper who started his career in 1986 as a member of the rap group the Juice Crew. He is widely considered to be one of the most influential and skilled MCs in hip hop.^{[2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12]} Regarding the name Big Daddy Kane, he said: "The Big Daddy part and the Kane part came from two different things. The Kane part came from my fascination with the martial arts flicks when I was young." The Big Daddy part came from the name of a character Vincent Price played in the film Beach Party.^[13]
Rolling Stone magazine ranked his song "Ain't No Half Steppin'" #25 on its list of The 50 Greatest Hip-Hop Songs of All Time, calling him "a master wordsmith of rap's late-golden age and a huge influence on a generation of MCs." They added, "Legend has it that even the Eighties' greatest rapper, Rakim, turned down a challenge to go mic-to-mic with Kane."^[14]