I began performing a song that my friend Robert OneMan Johnson wrote long ago. He introduced it once as a song about vampires called "Night Riders", a minor keyed, spooky double entendre that I've enjoyed playing, especially during this time of year.

Since living in the Seattle area I've learned of a particularly eerie statistic. Seattle is known to have the second largest population of vampires of any city in the U.S. This curious news seemed to beg even more questions. Just how does one determine the number of vampires in any given area? Count the empty coffins at night? (There's got to be a better way to make a living.) Is there a box on the census form? If you've been a vampire, or lived with a vampire for the past year, check here. Do you have to have an "Interview With a Vampire" to decide if in fact he or she is genuine, or does it require a blood test? I began using the above stat as well as the many additional questions that came to mind to introduce the song my friend OneMan wrote. Like, if Seattle has the second largest population of vampires, then, which city has the most vampires? Well, about the middle of April, I get these stabbing pains in my wallet. Which leads me to believe that Washington DC has the largest population of blood sucking vampires. Even though so many live here, I never thought I'd actually meet a vampire. It was a chilling experience.

(Cue: spooky organ music, dim lights, thunder clapping, and lightning flashes)

While walking in a shaded area of a local outdoor market, one bright and sunny day, something strange happened to me. I happened to notice, walking in the opposite direction, a young woman. I'll admit that outwardly this may not seem strange at all, a young woman in a market. It's what happened afterward that haunts me still. This was not someone I was familiar with, or knew by name, but rather just a chance encounter of one stranger with another in a crowded market place. At least, she might have been like so many others I've past by in the same market for the last twenty years had our eyes not met.
I now find that I have very little memory of what actually took place that day. Nor can I adequately explain exactly what transpired. But, I will tell you what I do remember to the best of my recollection.

I don't enjoy the heat of the sun beating down. Shaded areas have always been a refuge for the discomfort that I've felt from the sun drenched days that only occasionally interrupt the cooler cloudy weather that is the norm in this part of the country. That's the one thing I've enjoyed about this area, its gray rainy days. That's what I was doing that day, hiding from the sun. It was too hot out there. While some are willing to bask in it, I've always been more than happy to avoid it whenever possible. Of course, I'm not alone in this aversion to solar exposure. The walkway was crowded with many others. Not all were there for the same reason as I. The tables of produce, flowers, fish and crafts that lined either side of the walkway were lure enough for most. Those things held little interest to me. I'd seen them all many times before. As I walked on to my destination I came near to one of the many exits that led across the street, out into the bright and oppressive heat of the day. I glanced in the direction of sun soaked street, squinting as I did, thankful for the cool shade that surrounded me and when I looked back there she was.

My eyes slowly moved from her feet upward. She was tall, like basketball player tall, so it took a while to take it all in. She was dressed completely in black. A long black flowing cape covered her entire body. Her hair was jet black too. Long and straight, it draped about her face like Morticia Adams'. Her pale complexion was starkly contrasted by her gothic makeup accents, deep red lipstick and heavier than average eye shadow. As our eyes met they seemed to lock into a gaze that I can only describe as hypnotic. I remember murmuring, almost trance like, a one syllable greeting like, hey. Even as the breath was leaving my lungs and the word parting my lips, I recall wondering if I somehow knew her or she me, and I tried briefly to remember from where, but that was the very last thing I remember. I mean, I've passed thousands of people but have rarely said boo to total strangers. However, we did converse while we stood there, for what seemed like an hour. Was it telepathy or a hypnotic vampire trance? I don't know, but to this day I cannot remember anything else that was said. As I think back now, my inability to remember could have been due to some kind of telepathic manipulation on her part. There is that part of the legend that speaks of the supposed hypnotic ability of the vampire's gaze. All I know for sure is that I now have some idea of what a deer must feel like trapped frozen in the headlights of an oncoming car at night and I've never felt that way before or since. Perhaps it was being in public surrounded by potential witnesses that saved me from being preyed upon right there. Perhaps she was only toying with me as a cat often toys with a mouse before eating it. Or maybe she was sizing me up for later, a midnight, or after dinner snack, or dessert. The next thing that I clearly do recall is her smiling a broad smile. When she did, that's when I saw them, her vampire fangs! They were nothing like the average canines we all possess. These were frighteningly long and sharply pointed. The sight of them sent an instant surge of adrenalin rushing through my system. It must have been enough to break her link or whatever sway she held over my senses. I caught myself fully aware, awake, and conscious staring up at her teeth and I knew what I had to do. Immediately and almost automatically I withdrew myself in the direction of the intense sunlight. Having watched more than my share of vampire movies as a lad, I knew this was my only recourse since holy water, crucifixes, and garlic, though available at the market, wasn't readily at hand. My plan worked. She didn't follow, and I breathed a sigh of relief, my heart pounding in my chest.

I added an abbreviated version of the story of my encounter to my introduction of OneMan's song "Night Riders". I don't think anyone believes it. I guess I don't blame them. If it hadn't happened to me I wouldn't believe it either.

Truth is stranger than fiction. Be careful out there.