I’m back from
school for the summer! ; a few weeks before I met the Love of my life, which I of course fucked up, but that's another long ass story. Got my caesar lined
up like I did every Friday at a Barber shop 110 blocks North of my block in Harlem the day before, my
sideburns grown an inch and some change below my ears, shaped in to a pencil point. Got fresh Polo Boots, my baggy jeans tucked in em’, a mustard colored, no
particular name brand golf shirt tucked-in and a woven leather brown belt to
match my boots, bought 3 or 4 sizes bigger than my waist, so the end could
be folded in to a knot, sort of like a tie. In those days I had my Aiwa Walkman with me all the time, and was playing my bootleg, De Ti Depended album for the One thousandth
time. It was a hot ass summer Saturday night in 1994, and I hopped on the D
train to make my way to my cousins on Creston Ave. in the Bronx. I smoked an L on the way to the train
and took my sweet time getting there. It’s only three blocks and an avenue walk
from my building but by the time I got there, half my blunt was gone. The C Train got there as soon as I
dropped my token in the turnstile.
I hopped on, a heavy scent of Joop and Marijuana on me, and got off on 59th street for the transfer to
the D. The D came, all the White
people got out; in those days that was the last stop on the D for the vast
majority of White people, especially during the night, unless there was a Yankees
game. So anyway, they get out, I
walk in, find a seat next to the doors as I prefer and sat down like a sack of
potatoes. ”Stand Clear of the
Closing Doors, next stop 125th Street”, the conductor announces over
the loud speaker. I relax, start
bopping my head to the music, lookin’ around, got my L in between my index and
middle finger; that arm resting on my right thigh, my Left hand holding my
Walkman. At this point, I’m
feeling pretty good… I mean, shiiiit…
I’m back from school, got my hair laced, got my fresh clothes on, I’m smoked
out and listening to Hector… Life is good.
Most the folks in my car look middle aged, getting home or visiting family like I was I suppose… All is still well. 125th street finally came and with it came three grimy looking Black hoods, BX bound like I was. I didn’t pay that much mind to them but I did notice them, subtle like, as soon as they stepped in and they noticed me, subtle like as well. They sit to the left of me, next to the other set of doors. So a few stops later, 161st , Yankees Stadium comes and 90% of the riders get out, leaving me alone with the three grimy, very Hood lookin’ dudes that got on at 125th and I still got 5 stops to go. I’m still relaxed, haven’t changed my, “cool guy” seated position, still got my half of L in between my fingers. I quietly pop the button of my Walkman, keep my earphones on so I can hear them but pretend I’m still listening to music. They’re talking about me… In my head, I’m thinking, these mother fuckers are gonna’ try an rob me! I’m a bit high, and when you’re high, you can get a bit paranoid, although I’m pretty sure these mother fuckers are talking about me. The one with the beard, looked like the leader; he had a dingy green army hat on, with a dingy army coat (It’s summer kid !! ) on to match and a pair of busted ass Force Ones. He looked mean like a mother fucker. His other boys looked a bit younger but equally as mean. The dude with the beard, the bottom of his forearms resting on his thighs was quietly barking instructions to the other two who were sitting across from him. These mother fuckers are gonna’ try an rob me…
Moments later, the bearded dude gets up and sits across from me, eyes down. 10 seconds later another one comes sits three seats next to bearded guy, his eyes down, his right hand covering his face below his nose like a B boy. The other one, a skinny fuck, who I decided, If things went down is the guy I’m going to punch first is giggling nervously and standing up. The bearded dude is trying to get him to shut up and stay where he is, but he ends up sitting directly across from me, still giggling, eyes down.
Lets review. Three Dirty looking Black dudes, One “pretty” lookin’ “Spanish” dude, expensive boots, Walkman, nobody else on this Bronx bound D train. Nobody on the train kid… and they get up, all three, one by one and sit directly across from me. It’s not looking good anymore kid...
I still pretend I’m listening to my Walkman, but now I’m staring at all three of them, one at a time. They, their eyes down but a very apparent menacing look on their faces. At this point subtleness has been thrown out the window. As the train approaches the next stop, I decide to get up before I see florescent light outside the windows. I abruptly get up, take one more, deep stare at all three of them. I’m breathing heavily, my heart is pounding and I bang a left to the other side of the train. They still wait, a bit more anxiously this time, I can tell because they began to fidget. I wait, the train doors open, I wait until they nearly close and was out of there faster than Ricky Henderson stealing his 100th base in a season kid ! Holy Shit!
I ran up the stair case on 174th Street and the Grand Concourse and immediately flagged down a Gypsy cab. I was visibly nervous, told the cab driver what just nearly happened and he proceeded to lecture me on how I should take up Karate… I half listened and began to grow angry when I noticed I lost my L… Fuck !!
Most the folks in my car look middle aged, getting home or visiting family like I was I suppose… All is still well. 125th street finally came and with it came three grimy looking Black hoods, BX bound like I was. I didn’t pay that much mind to them but I did notice them, subtle like, as soon as they stepped in and they noticed me, subtle like as well. They sit to the left of me, next to the other set of doors. So a few stops later, 161st , Yankees Stadium comes and 90% of the riders get out, leaving me alone with the three grimy, very Hood lookin’ dudes that got on at 125th and I still got 5 stops to go. I’m still relaxed, haven’t changed my, “cool guy” seated position, still got my half of L in between my fingers. I quietly pop the button of my Walkman, keep my earphones on so I can hear them but pretend I’m still listening to music. They’re talking about me… In my head, I’m thinking, these mother fuckers are gonna’ try an rob me! I’m a bit high, and when you’re high, you can get a bit paranoid, although I’m pretty sure these mother fuckers are talking about me. The one with the beard, looked like the leader; he had a dingy green army hat on, with a dingy army coat (It’s summer kid !! ) on to match and a pair of busted ass Force Ones. He looked mean like a mother fucker. His other boys looked a bit younger but equally as mean. The dude with the beard, the bottom of his forearms resting on his thighs was quietly barking instructions to the other two who were sitting across from him. These mother fuckers are gonna’ try an rob me…
Moments later, the bearded dude gets up and sits across from me, eyes down. 10 seconds later another one comes sits three seats next to bearded guy, his eyes down, his right hand covering his face below his nose like a B boy. The other one, a skinny fuck, who I decided, If things went down is the guy I’m going to punch first is giggling nervously and standing up. The bearded dude is trying to get him to shut up and stay where he is, but he ends up sitting directly across from me, still giggling, eyes down.
Lets review. Three Dirty looking Black dudes, One “pretty” lookin’ “Spanish” dude, expensive boots, Walkman, nobody else on this Bronx bound D train. Nobody on the train kid… and they get up, all three, one by one and sit directly across from me. It’s not looking good anymore kid...
I still pretend I’m listening to my Walkman, but now I’m staring at all three of them, one at a time. They, their eyes down but a very apparent menacing look on their faces. At this point subtleness has been thrown out the window. As the train approaches the next stop, I decide to get up before I see florescent light outside the windows. I abruptly get up, take one more, deep stare at all three of them. I’m breathing heavily, my heart is pounding and I bang a left to the other side of the train. They still wait, a bit more anxiously this time, I can tell because they began to fidget. I wait, the train doors open, I wait until they nearly close and was out of there faster than Ricky Henderson stealing his 100th base in a season kid ! Holy Shit!
I ran up the stair case on 174th Street and the Grand Concourse and immediately flagged down a Gypsy cab. I was visibly nervous, told the cab driver what just nearly happened and he proceeded to lecture me on how I should take up Karate… I half listened and began to grow angry when I noticed I lost my L… Fuck !!
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