So... I had an interesting experience on Sunday. After waking up on John's couch wearing a Randel Cunningham jersey and a clock around my neck, I had to hurry home to shower off "my" lipstick and pick my brother up to head down to the BB&T classic at the MCI center.
I will pause while you re-read the last sentence....
So anyway, as you can imagine, I am a little tired, disoriented, and hungover. We get on the metro in College Park and my brother takes a window seat, and I take the aisle. Across the aisle and 1 seat up is a large black man. As soon as we sit down, the following conversation ensues:
Black Man (BM): (to my brother) Hey my man, where you going?
Ryan: Um, to the MCI center.
BM: Give me a dollar (yes, it was indeed that subtle)
Ryan: Sorry, I don't have anything.
BM: What, so I have to fight you for it? (I now know that this is not going to turn out well)
Ryan: Uh.....
BM: (turns to me) So, did what I say to him offend you?
Me: Maybe you should just sit there and mind your own business, we'll sit over here, and everything is cool.
BM: OR WHAT SLIM? HUH PARTNER? YOU THINK THERE IS STILL SLAVERY UP IN THIS MOTHERFUCKER?!?!?
Me: Jesus, whatever (at this point I am actually laughing at him - this enrages him more)
BM: MOTHERFUCKING CRACKER. I WILL KILL YOU, etc... (he is now standing over me yelling.)
At this point BM decided to escalate matters by spitting at me. This did not sit well with me. So I punched him in the face. We end up on the ground. After rolling around the metro car, we both get up. I notice a stroller next to me. I tell BM that there are little kids here and they don't need to see this. BM responds by incoherently rambling more things about crackers and glasses and slavery and such. I keep laughing at him. BM is so pissed off (or wacked out on something) he is foaming at the mouth. Some old woman calls the cops. BM gets off at the next station. Cops never show up (good to know those call boxes on the trains work wonders).
I spend the rest of the trip getting congratulated by random people. I rule metro car number 5002.
Posted by Chad at December 8, 2003 10:33 AMChad, you're my hero. Muthafuckin' Cracka.
Now where's my dollar?
If you had simply kept on the Randall jersey and the make-up, everyone would have left you alone.
Posted by: John at December 8, 2003 01:16 PMSo, a crazy man/possible drug addict/whateverthefuck spit on you, you woke in in the evil Silver and Green, wearing lipstick...
...part of me is glad our paths don't cross more often.
Stories like this - reasons I carry a knife in DC. Once my truck got busted into, I resolved people that fucked with me in that city, once a certain line had been crossed, would sample a slicin'.
I pulled a knife on a guy in Baltimore once; I saw him trying to bust into a car. Thing is, I don't know whether to be proud of all this or a bit ashamed.
Posted by: Chris at December 8, 2003 05:22 PM