Meet Curtis

I have often wondered whatever happened to Curtis or "Detroit" as he was called on the streets. I was first introduced to Curtis when he stopped by the Emerald Inn. He walked in carrying a bucket and a squeegee and asked if he could wash the outside windows of the rooms and the lobby. Heck, they were dirty from the dust scattered through the air by all of the traffic on Aurora, and the price he quoted was good, so I agreed.

The task would have been daunting to me, and I figured that it would take a minimum of two to three hours to accomplish the mission. I stood in front of the lobby window to see if Curtis was going to be a flake and just try to scam for some money, or whether he could really wash windows. The answer arrived quickly, and I stood there in awe as I watched an artist at work, With the strokes of an artist painting a masterpiece, Curtis directed the brush and squeegee over the windows with precision and grace. Within thirty minutes he had the entire hotel done. I was flabbergasted.

I paid him out of the petty cash fund and told Curtis that if he wanted to he could come once a week and do the windows. He thanked me and walked down Aurora. I actually never figured that I would see him again.

I was wrong. Curtis Saved My Life. Maybe.
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One day Curtis, AKA Detroit, came in and had a very serious look on his face. He said' the word on the street is that you don't like Black people, and some of them wanted to get you, but I saved your butt. I told them that you were a special forces combat vet and that you could kill anyone with your bare hands." Curtis seemed very proud of his story and what he had done for me to keep me from who knows what harm. While I was touched by how he had stood up for me, I had some serious qualms, too. I mean, what if some of them had decided to put it to the test? Thankfully, that never happened. Good old Curtis saved my behind that day.