Monday, March 22, 2010

How not to beg for money!!!

I saw him watching me. I quickly glanced his way but thought nothing of it until he started moving towards me. I didn’t think too much of it. His walk quickened. I questioned quickly if he was trouble. I mean, I do have an uncanny magnetism for crazy people. He rushed towards me. I felt my nerves flinch but I kept my body calmed and and squeezed my face to a confrontational frown. All I heard was “wallet.” I knew I couldn’t have been getting robbed because I was at a busy train station in broad daylight with like a five hundred witnesses. I thought nobody would be that stupid but it was D.C.. I replied” excuse me.” Which I hoped came out, “Are you fucking serious, nigga.” I had gone from non-threatening black male with his college educated eye glasses, button up shirts and corporate slacks back to that hood snotty nosed kid. I’ve always have been amazed that even the most refined black person can easily lose it all if properly pissed off. So I immediately clinched my fist, an upbringing of dealing with stupid niggas reflex. He approached again, more apologetic but yet somewhat scary. I heard of whites describing any black male as some big black male and they were usually wrong. Yet, this guy was a big black guy. He was 6’2, but thin. It was the colors. He had on all black. It was like some scene out of a SpongeBob cartoon. So I paused. He repeated, “I lost my wallet, and I need to get home.” I laughed. I guess to calm my nerves because my leg started shaking like it was about to testify in church. I told him I couldn’t help him. He pleaded again. I stopped and stared him in his face to let him know I was not pleased. I scolded him that’s not how you beg for money. You can’t just run up to people yelling at them about some damn wallet. All I heard was wallet and some angry looking motherfucker in my face. I didn’t know if he wanted my wallet or he lost a wallet. I wanted to run. Shit, I really wanted to run. The dude was huge. And he looked angry. And I wanted to run. Yet, the joke was on him. I was broke. He allowed himself to look at my discounted corporate uniform as a sign of success when I was just a broke or more broke than him. I should’ve robbed he ass for scary me.