Me? Blondie?

One evening back in the eighties when I was tiny, young and bleached blonde, I was walking down South Street Seaport with my friend, Nerog. I had a black leather jacket on and Nerog looked like a young rockstar dressed in black. Well, we came across the big burly men working the seaport with huge fish hooks hanging off their shoulders. For some reason they thought I was Deborah Harry from Blondie. One of them came after me with a pen and paper for an autograph. So I looked at Nerog and we both decided to play along. Before we knew it, we had a crowd of these huge men surrounding us. All went well until one of them said, "That's not her". Nerog freaked out and started running away. Leaving me with all this brawn to deal with. I dropped the pen and paper that was in my shivering hand and hauled ass out of there. We must have run forever, afraid that one of them would chase us. We finally got to the end of Manhattan and hid in a tall building, laughing and crying at the same time. Whew! we got away.