I got kicked out of a Starbucks at the strip mall by a guy who was a wannabe cop. He owned this kind of weapons store across the street. I’m at Starbucks and he goes, “You, out!”
     I’m like, “What’d I do?”
     He goes, “Out.”
     I’m like, “What?”
     He goes, “You didn’t do anything. I just don’t want you here.”
     And I said to the girl behind the register, “I always have coffee here. I have money. I’m buying coffee.”
     She goes, “I never saw him before.”
     I’d always joke around, make her laugh.
     He goes, “Get out.” All of a sudden all these security guys from the mall are standing there. And I’m like, ‘I didn’t do anything, I have coffee here, every morning –“

86ed: That’s what rankles…

Rob: And you get this punch in the stomach, and all week it’s like: I’m gonna blow that place up. I’ll think of something, I’m gonna slash tires.

86ed:  Remember that time in L.A. when I was staying at the, I forget what its called, gay hustler hotel, The Coral Sands. I went to the strip mall Starbucks and I saw you, and–

Rob: Did you stay at the Saharan? Oh my god, the Saharan!
     The Saharan –– when my girlfriend would come by, she’d drive up from San Diego, you know, when she’d recover from her drugs. I was still homeless. She would pick me up, wherever I was, and we’d go stay at the Saharan.
     Well, one day she drives in to pick me up. We go into the Saharan, and this big Pakistani behind the desk goes, “Out.” He goes, “I don’t want him here. He’s a loser!”
     And she was the crack-whore. She got me hooked on crack. So anyway, we had to leave but I kept walking through the place, sneaking up, trying to figure out what I was going to do to him.
     Oh, I got the good one! This is the one that hurt. This is the one. I was getting clean finally in L.A., alright? Going to meetings, had clothes on again, the whole thing. I had an apartment. My girl comes over again from recovering in San Diego. She moves in with me. That night, she vanishes for two days – crack, the whole thing. I get a call from the Emergency Room of whatever hospital it is that’s near the mall. I go and she’s there with tubes in her and a black eye, frail as hell. She had smoked crack and gotten beaten up. She calls me over, and she’s crying. I’m sitting on a stool kissing her hand. The doctor walks in and he shakes her hand, and he goes, “Oh, Andrea, I’m Doctor blah blah blah” And he goes, “Who are you?”
     “I’m Rob Shapiro.”
     He goes, “Oh. Okay. Andrea, I’m gonna look at your chart.” And to me: “Could you leave for a minute?”
     So, I’m sitting out at the nurse’s station, right? He comes out and goes, “I want you to leave.”
     I said, “What did I do?”
     He said, “You’re ruining her life.”
     I said, “That girl’s hooked on crack. I get her clean. My friends get her clean. She lives at my house.”
     He goes, “You know what? C’mere.”
     He has me walk back into the hospital room and he says, “This man is beating you.”
     She says, “No, he’s not.”
     I said, “No, I’m not.”
     He says, “It’s obvious. You’re beating her, and I want you out of this hospital. If you’re anywhere near her, I’m gonna have you arrested.”
     She goes, “No, I love him,” and she starts crying.
     And he says, “Look, I want you out, and if you’re anywhere near her, I will have you–“
     I said, “Why don’t you ask her out?  That’s what you really want. You wanna, you wanna fuck her.”
     I wasn’t allowed by the hospital for a week. I wasn’t allowed to see her and I didn’t have the means to get a lawyer. She comes out and goes, “Rob, that guy was coming on to me constantly.” Turns out, he’d come by and like, kiss her on the neck –

Bartender: Doctor Kildare!