May 10, 2006

Tennis, Poughkeepsie, and Platinum Teeth

This story starts one Friday afternoon, when the Somers Varsity Tennis team has an away match in Poughkeepsie. So after match, Mike Valerio and I walk from the tennis courts to the nearest McDonalds...which is about a mile or so away. I’m currently in my usual tennis away match outfit…hooded sweatshirt, sun glasses, cap, headband, knee socks…basically pretty ghetto toolish. We're currently on like the main street of Poughkeepsie, which is the headquarters of ghettoness for the Hudson Valley. Everyone was black...there were those twenty old guys riding those 20 inch bicycles and, once in awhile, when a shoddy car would pass, this one guy would cross his arms to make an X and just roar.

So anyway, Mike and I left McD's, trying to get back to Poughkeepsie High, but we got quite lost (mistake #1). After about fifteen minutes of roaming around—trying to find our way back—we end up on the sketchiest street I've ever been on. It's about dusk/evening right now, massive trees are lining the sidewalk making it even darker, and what looked like abandoned houses encircled us. So Valerio gets this phone call, and goes to sit down on this stoop, and I’m still standing on the sidewalk right by the road. I suddenly hear something booming, I look up, and see the first sign of life for the last fifteen minutes.

This black Ford Explorer is zooming down the road…its got the standard tinted glass, chrome rims, and booming speaks. I see that this truck is slowing down, and eventually stopping right next to me. I should have run away right now. I suddenly feel quite uncomfortable, because I realize what I’m wearing. I put my hood up, hoping it would make him not see me. My greatest fear comes true when the Explorer’s windows roll down, and I see a pretty hardcore black guy inside. But this guy screams out, at me, “WHATUPP NIGGA.” So this guy thinks I’m black, which pumps me up incredibly. I look around, to make sure no actual black guy is around…I look at Valerio for any advice, and I get nothing. All fear I used to feel is suddenly vanished and I’m now determined to make this guy my friend.

Since this black guy think I’m a fellow Afro-American, I decide to spit him back some of my Ebonics skills I’ve been yearning to use. So I go up to the car and say something simple like “Yo, nigga, what you need?” And yes, I dropped the n-word, just so I can say I did in front of a real non-Alex Simmons black guy. So this guy is talking back at me in rapid Ebonics…I barely understood him, mostly cause I was staring at the platinum in his teeth and I was also wondering what the fuck am I doing? I just nod and nod and he unexpectedly asks me if I want to make 200 dollars. Now, I should have said no and ran away, but honestly…I wanted to know what he exactly wanted me to do and, also, I already knew this was a good story but I wanted to bring it to the next level.

So I do a little Ali G snap and ask him what he wants me to do, and he responds “get in the car son.” I freak out, realize this is bad news, but I try to act cool and I just say “nah man.” This man doesn’t like this and replies “Look, you fuckin listen to me nigga, you do what I fuckin tell you to do…” So he’s yelling at me, blasting away a bunch of expletives, I don’t even remember what I said back, but apparently he thought it was funny, and he laughs a lot. He then goes “Aight man, if you not gonna get in, meet me at Oakley and High—

This guy looks at his rearview mirror and sees two cars zooming down FAST. He’s fuckin scared, screams out “FUCK,” stomps on the gas peddle and rolls up his window. I run away, fearing that these cars are going stop and hunt me down, but these two cars blow past us chasing the Explorer. After recovering for a couple minutes, Valerio and I walk again, but we suddenly hear gunshots.


All I know is that I'm now officialy in the same league as 50 Cent.

1 comment:

thespicyspaniard said...

real gangsta-ass nigga... you played your cards right