I was 16 years of age when I first heard my grandmother's story. I was sitting next to her in the retirement community where she lived and I was telling her about the guy I liked.
"I remember my first kiss," she had said at at my insistence she recounted the story.
"I was a little older than you at the time maybe 17, I was carefree and oblivious like other girls back in the 20s.
And with my fair skin, blue eyes, and platinum hair every guy seemed to be after me. But I wasn't looking to settle down and start a family yet.
But one night my friends dragged me across town to a new bar that had opened despite the laws of Prohibition. But that didn't matter; it was Chicago after all."
"Grandma," I said. "Wasn't crime huge in Chicago back then?"
"Only if you didn't know the right people. Anyway I was dancing with my friends when an older man asked me to dance. He was too charming that I couldn't say no.
We danced together for 3 songs straight before we sat down at his table. We started talking and I soon became even more charmed by how he acted.
At the end of the night when I started to get tired he led me out to the street and got me a taxi,
and I was about to get in when I turned back towards him and in a split second decision our lips met in a kiss. After that I got into my taxi and I never saw him again.
His name was something weird like Alfredo Brown."
"Alphonse Brown?" I asked.
"Yes, it was." I quickly looked up something on my phone and showed her a picture. "That's him, he's older in that picture though," she replies.
"Grandma, that's Al Capone. Your first kiss was Al Capone, the gangster."
"Capone? I just said that his last name was Brown."
"Well, what can I say it was the 20s." Grandma replies with a little laugh. "But I guess I now know who he was."