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I Was Almost Murdered On My Birthday, Losing My Sanity As A Result
I was twenty-six years old in 2003, young, strong, virile, and ambitious, a magnet for young women and men. I lived in New York City, studying and performing in the theatre, ostensibly my chosen profession. Though paid sporadically for my craft, I considered myself lucky.
So, I had to supplement my actor’s income with a regular job, a soul-sucking exercise at that point in my life. Every morning, for five days a week, I had to hop aboard three different trains on my way to Jersey City, New Jersey. Jersey City is where Forrest Laboratories is located, a short distance from the Hudson. I worked as a data entry specialist, earning fourteen dollars an hour, an amount barely above minimum wage for a person living in New York City.
Sure, I did not earn a great deal of money, but I was still content, as I was a working actor living in a city that is known for producing excellent, world-class acting talent. New York City is where Denzel Washington, Samuel L. Jackson, Morgan Freeman, and Ving Rhames honed their redoubtable skills on the stage, historically great black actors who became movie stars.
One evening, as a woman friend and I watched Devil in a Blue Dress, starring Denzel Washington, in her apartment, she gushed.
