I was out in Georgia hanging out with some boys following a ball game. One of my boys suggested we kick the night off at a bar that specializes in country and western music. Whatevs I thought.
I get two mason jars (yes mason jars) of cheap draft beer and begin watching the band play. All of a sudden I lock eyes with a blonde who appears to at least a decade older than me. She approaches the group (total textbook southern belle) and begins speaking with me. I set one of my beers down on the bar as she brings me over to her two friends (also very attractive). The first belle disappears while I’m talking to her two girlfriends. I finish one mason jar, and return to the bar to get the other one I purchased.
By now my boys want to venture out to another spot where we are meeting the rest of the crew. I kill the second brew and leave with them. Once I sat down in the car, my head is spinning and my ability to focus is gone. I’m having trouble seeing things clearly and overall just feel a vice grip on my guts.
I tell my boy to pull over since I’m struggling and I immediately upchuck. I mean, I’m upchucking worse than a bulimic bitch. I didn’t eat much for dinner and only had the 2 brews at the country spot. I wash my mouth out with water feeling good to go. I’m not, next thing I know, I sit back in the car and I’m out. My cell phone rang at 5:00 AM waking me up on the hotel bathroom floor. I had no recollection of anything inbetween.
I have a feeling something was slipped in my drink. Why, I have no clue. But it was not a pleasant experience at all. Of course I was the butt of jokes for my inability to hold 2 beers down. However, something had to have been put in my drink to get me puking and blacking out my memory. Maybe the belles wanted to run a train on me? Maybe a jealous KKK racist fugg wanted to lynch me? Maybe the bar didn’t like colored folks? Who knows. Lesson learned, no matter who you are, never leave a drink unattended.
My rectum was intact when I awoke. My shoes, socks, pants, and belt were still in place. I highly doub I was violated down there. Though my white hommies may have tea bagged me. They’re all about that g@y shit, no homo.
Yeah, I fell for the rap CD thing once. But only once. They’ve tried over and over again, and now I will occasionally tell them my name just to have them waste a piece of plastic.
Actually, even more annoying are the charity people on the street who have their thing with two or three people on the sidewalk: “Excuse me, sir, do you have a minute… / willing to stand up for… / blah blah blah for…” “…children’s rights” “…animal rights” “…gay rights” “…ending racism.” “…helping teachers.” “…firefighters.” “…the environment.” “…the disabled.” “…Haiti.” “…Tsunami Surivivors.” “…whirled peas.” “…ending hunger.” “…ex-wives and mistresses of hedge fund managers.” They all look the same, like some franchise store that just decided to use pink for gay stuff, and blue for environmental stuff, and purple for children stuff, and barf green for anti-war stuff. It’s just a machine that keeps cranking people for stuff and you really don’t know what it’s going for or what they are actually going to use your signature for. I’m sympathetic, to most of their causes, but it just gets old being hammered for it time after time. And then they act like you’re a horrible person because all you really want to do is walk from the subway to your office without being made to feel like you’re Mr. Scrooge. And they seem to act like the last time you did something for them didn’t really count. Personally, I would rather pay higher taxes and have a responsive democracy and an effective government than deal with that crap every…bloody…f-ing…day.
Chicago: 2001. 19 year old JCole was in the windy for the first time on for a hockey tournament in one of the burbs with my boys. Run up on a brother on the corner, selling the day’s paper for like 1/4 of the price (presumably, he paid for one, took the stack, and was now making it up on volume). I tell him JCole wants a gold chain. He says ‘hold up’.
Next thing you know this cat is schooling me on the durability and beauty of 24 kt gold - you can’t scratch this ish, you can’t burn it, you can’t bite it. Fifty bones later I’m thugging out to the St Lunatics in my bonneville with home theater speakers and a computer subwoofer in the trunk and I’ve got this gold chain just stuntin on 'em. Couple weeks later it turned green - apparently gold’s achilles heel is ‘soap’…
I give to charity but never in small doses - meaning never to individuals, and almost never to panhandlers on the subway/street. My go to response for any would-be-sob-story (someone who is clearly not homeless, but equally clearly is about to tell me a story that concludes with ‘do you have a couple bucks to help me blah blah blah…’) is now:
Random person: Hey man, excuse me, but do you think you could…
Me: Are you lost? Do you need directions? (10 yrs in NYC, I know most of the island very well)
Random person [almost always taken aback]: Wha- no, man, what I need is…
Me: Sorry, no.
I don’t know why, but the act of offering directions - even followed up with a curt refusal to continue talking to the person - seems to make it easier to not enter into conversations with people who want to hustle you. Been doing it for about 2 yrs now, I recommend people try it.
^ I’m with yall. A part of me wants to believe their sob story and the utility of $1 to me is far less than it would be to them. But I struggle with the fact that the money could be going to booze, drugs, CPA Exam fees, etc.
My pet peeve is the guy who stands by the highway onramp to ask for “donations”. At least do it somewhere where you won’t cause a traffic jam, asshole.
When I see a panhandler in front of me I usually just premptively ask if he can spare of dollar for gas fare so I can get back to my sick grandma in Poughkeepsie. Usually they don’t have anything to spare.
Dis brotha was panhandling in my old hood me saying, “aye mang, I need $4.00 for a slice of pizza!” It was after bar close and I was tanked so I shot back, “Nigga, if yous hungry go get 4 loaves of bread over 1 slice of pizza.”
There’s a guy at 34th and 7th on the NW corner who sits in a wheelchair and screams loud angry obscenities at people passing by. I’ve had to go by him two or three times in the last week. I don’t know how much he rakes in with that attitude. Quite honestly, I’m surprised that someone hasn’t pushed his wheelchair down the stairs. I did see someone almost get into a fight with him on Wednesday, though. I think he backed off because just seems too unfair to have a fight with a guy in a wheelchair.
i havent’ given to bums in a few years and won’t going forward…in Canada, if you’e really starving and in trouble, there is so much help available. free shelter, food, etc. most are just on drugs etc…
ChickenTikka is really crackin’ me up on this thread.
I have never been dosed, but my brother he claims he was once on the train once. Almost got thrown off.
All you have to do to avoid all these people is just wear headphones everywhere. If anyone bothers you, just pretend you can’t hear them and keep walking. No trouble.
I bought a bag of oregano back in middle school thinking it was weed. If I hadn’t decided to share my “score” with a buddy, I would have smoked it and probably been none the wiser.