So a few minutes ago I got a call from a 415 number. Don’t recognize it, but, far as I know, none of my creditors are hanging out in San Francisco, so I pick it up.
“Hey, it’s Jordan ahdfaoheoaefa” I got him on iPhone speakerphone, see, because my reception is shitty up here in the hills, but as long as I don’t hold/touch/move the phone, I’m good to go.
But now I’m talking to some dude I don’t know who he is.
“I’m in town, we should hang out.” And I’m stringing him along, trying to figure out who the fuck I gave my number to in SF and why are they calling me and what, you’re in town for 3 months, that’s wild, maybe this is a fan? how’d he get my number? one of my friends in SF done sold me out, man, totally gave my number to some weird stalker, and we’re still talking, maybe we’ll grab some lunch, and what’re you doing in LA anyway, guy I don’t in any way recognize and am only talking to until I figure out who you are so I can hang up and avoid you?
“Taking photos.”
OH HOLY SHIT, WAIT WAIT IT’S JORDAN FRAKER!!!!!!!!!
I don’t know if he noticed, but, and this is maybe 3 minutes into the conversation, my tone completely switched.
Because Jordan Fraker is fucking awesome. Only met the man once, during the legendary Madonna Inn Shoot of ‘07, but that was all it took. Guy is cool beans.
AND NOW HE IS IN MY CITY.
Cue Fun.
