[ H O M E ] [ A c t i n g ] [ Intelligence ] [ W i l d S i d e ] [ love ]

It was back in 2000, when I chanced upon princess Redocinqua of Zambia. It just so happened she was in the city of Toronto, Canada, on diplomatic rounds. In perhaps the most chance of encounters I have had since my fighting days in the Seychelles Security Force, I chanced upon the lass on a secret excursion from her hotel unescourted into the night.

It was June, and the Canadian summer was at one of its mildest, at just a few dergrees below freezing. Redocinqua was shivering at Bathurst station, totally unprepared as she was, having only clothes suited to the frying pan hot sub Saharan African temperatures. I offered her my green trenchcoat in exchange for a favour. The favour? To accompany me to dinner.

Unbeknownst to me, this was a princess, and while sure, I should have guessed by the designer jewelry that this was a woman of class, my first instinct was warm food, and we settled in on some Italian food at a particularly dank restaurant off of King St.

We wined, dined, and spent the night under the stars.

The night went absolutely perfect, and after finishing the night at the Green Room, perhaps one of Toronto's finest brasseries, things were starting to get passionate.

Of course Redocinqua wanted to jump my bones right then and there, but I could tell she had had just a few too many glasses of wine, and I disuaded her.

A bit crestfallen, I walked her back to the hotel, and said we could pick up where we left off tomorrow. She silently nodded and kissed my forehead and went upstairs.

So; how do I know she was a princess? I came to the hotel the next day to ring on Redocinqua, but to my horror she had checked out. She had left my wool trenchcoat with reception though, and a note, written on Zambian state letterhead. The note said simply,

Dearest Jeff, I have been called off on diplomatic affairs in Knoxville, Tennesee, and will be unable to make good on our plans to go out again. However, simply bring this note to the Zambian consulate, and they shall make you aware of my return in 3 weeks time. All my love, Redocinqua

An article in the newspaper confirmed my brush with royalty, as did the embassy. I anxiously awaited our next encounter, but of course, I had to escape former KGB gangsters and fled to Ireland.

Still, the memory of her haunts me still, and the lesson learned was a bitter but important one, and it is one I will always carry with me. That lesson? Don't f**k with KGB gangsters! You'll have to leave hot chicks behind.

And that, my friends, may be the most romantic lesson of all.