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My Encounter With Weirdness on Saturday before/after
So that was interesting. Lesson learned.
Naivete' can be dangerous.
Went to the downtown park, on the sixteenth street mall, where the free tram lives, and people are wont to wander.
Ended up steeped in the seedy city mists, amongst the unapologetic. Grim realizations and a plan gone hideously wrong.
I went there, seeking to browbeat some sixteen year old half-wit into giving me weed.
In the park are these monolitic western desert cave like sculptures, that kids play on , or at least was the intent. I saw the gang in the park a block ahead. A girl riding the bus stopped and smiled brightly at me as I was pondering my thoughts by a still dry fountain.
Some people entered one monolith, and were smoking pot, as evidenced by the loud hacking and coughing. I looked at the girl, and we giggled.
She said,"Is it that obvious?"
She came over and fumbled with her bra. She offered to smoke a bowl of marijuana with me.
Well, why not?
So we walked to a different spot. Along the way I notice that her eyes were unpinned, and she was incredibly evasive. She knew the streets well, and it was increasingly more evident that she was a street creature.
She broke up some grass at one spot, but became increasingly paranoid, redirecting us back to the park where the gang claimed their turf. We jumped on the free mall bus and were there. We passed this one uncomfortable looking guy and a girl, she greeted him, but he offered no acknowledgment.
Hmmm.
We walked around some more of the western sculpture and smoked some. By the second toke she hacked horribly, and I noticed that her teeth were brown. I believe from smoking cocaine, but I do not know enough about hard drug abuse to make a certain diagnoses.
The gang started getting curious, and sniffing around me. And she looked at me with pure lust. I do not know which rattled me more. Actually I do. It was the girl. Rattled may be a bad word. Horrified may be more appropo. Before her sojurn into the streets, she'd been a pretty little girl. I don't think she'd been on her own for very long.
She said,"Let's go over to 17th and Tremont. I know a spot there, we can finish this bowl."
Hmmm. I smoke pot all over this city. Blatantly, all the time. Now this is the third venue. And she'd made hand signals to the gang.
In the back of my head, my instincts slowly take control of my behavior. I looked at my watch.
She: "You running short on time?"
me:(casually and unhurried) *sigh*"...yeah, Christie. I've gotta' get going."
She whipped out a pen and a pad of paper that already had a name, addy and phone number on it. The gang chattered at me.
I must admit I choked on this call. I wrote down Roomies cell phone number. At least there would be no access to any sort of address.
Two cop cars eyed me, talking into their walkie-talkies. The restaurant must've notified the police.
I politly thanked her and started to walk. A hooker asked me for a smoke, which I quickly supplied.
The gang eyed me harder. Two of their toughs were squaring off in a playful male-bonding ritual, to determine pecking order, I'm sure. Had I lept into the play, they would've attempted to beat me into the gang.
I am my own gang. Its all I've ever needed.
They chattered some more at me, and I threw a glance their way. All kids, really. Had they tried anything, the bloodshed would've been monumental. Mostly theirs. I am built for confrontations such as these, and they edged back. I felt their eyes sweep over me, looking for weaknesses. I always feel these stares. Old baja family therapy instincts from inner city Detroit, thank-you very much. I know gangs. I know their signs, and M-O's. Like animals, they can sense fear. I have none. Only hard won self assurance of an almost insane proportion. Face death a few times, and you will acquire this, also. Its rather quite simple.
And I started my procession towards home.
My brother once said,"Jay, when you make up your mind that its time to go, and you leave...to watch you is impressive."
And y'know, this may or may not be true. But it is true that if you get in my way when I'm in this mode, I will walk straight over you, and its reasonably evident. I stride with purpose, determination, dignity and focus. I am a man of the world, and its best you don't delay me in these instances.
A balding black man with a breifcase approached me as I waited at the cross walk, a stern look on my face.
he:"Yo, man, if you need a pimp, I can help you...."
He slurred the word pimp.
I turn and fix him with the gaze of my icy blues.
me:(sharply):"What."
he(surprised):"Nothing...I was just askin' you for pennies some which way..."
I strode on, and through a new perspective, the right eyes, i guess, I realized that this place, indeed much of the city is overrun by gangs. They are sly, and well organized, but they are thick. Especially down on the 16th street mall. There is a lookout, the holder, and the man who makes the deal, with some muscle just standing around, trying hard to be casual. The city trap.
Each clutch I passed conversed about whether to approach me. The end answer was--no. Putting out the"Don't Fuck With Me Vibe," I guess.
Security waited at the elevators. I took the stairs.
Found my car more by luck than anything. Paid my money and left.
At home, tucked back behind my nice walls, my niche', my safe place, my sanctuary, I brushed isopropyl alcohol onto my lips to kill whatever I may have encountered from sharing two puffs of a bowl with that depressing VD culture of a girl, and put on some chap-stick, too disturbed to sit outside.
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