I Deserve Ten Bucks After That

Good day.  It has been a while and I can't properly excuse my absence so I'll just jump into a story:

A couple of years ago I was biking downtown to meet a girl at our city's most famous landmark.  Well that's where I thought we were meeting because of the text that said: "that place we went that one time down by the water."  But we were thinking of two different places. (We weren't on the same page. It didn't work out with this particular girl.)

Anyways, I was biking into the parking lot on the busy summer evening.  I remember the boardwalk and bike paths were bustling.  As I coasted through the parking lot, I made eye contact with two men that lasted just longer than it should have. On their faces I saw expressions of recognition with a touch of anger. I almost didn't think anything of it, except for feeling that the visual exchange happened in slow motion and was just long enough to warrant a minute amount of fear. I starred at the two loose clothed, buzzed headed, and sketchy men until a car came between us, breaking the gaze.  I hopped off my bike as I glided onto the boardwalk at the edge of the parking lot.  I was about to search for the girl when, as I looked back to the parking lot, one of the men had picked up a slow run towards me. He was the younger of the two by about ten years, probably around thirty. He was yelling "Hey! Hey!" and looking at me in the passing crowds.  I contemplated running out of instinct, but the boardwalk was too busy.  The man stopped about five meters short of me, and I had put a short fence between us.
He asked "What's your name?"
I replied "Ben."
Pointing to the older man he back by the cars, the younger says "He says you owe him money."
"I've never seen him before." I said.  I'm sure it was through a shutter.
Then he tells me to wait there as he goes to confer with the older drug dealer about who I am. I hear them say my name, and then they both come towards me this time. The older, taller man with fewer teeth says:
"Are you sure you're not Cody?"
"No, I'm Ben" I repeated.
"I'm sorry, you look just like a kid who owes me ten bucks."
I breathed a sigh of relief as they backed up and the younger kept apologizing over and over.
Too late, I thought, already shit myself.
I looked around for the girl to no avail, and just before I was about to ride home, the younger yelled from their new spot, sitting down: "Sorry again, Ben."
I responded with a half-wave of dismissal and rode home to one of the weirdest dates of my life; but that's a story for another time.

You're welcome,

B.F. Greenough, aka,
Chief Hanky, The Drug Dodger