New York…

…skyscrapers and everythang.
Been here since Monday hanging out with my fiancee. This is an interesting place. I don’t have the vehement distaste for New York that I had in college, which was really just a vehement distaste for most of the folks at Clark from New York. You know the ones I’m talking about…the ones that seemed to make themselves feel better by talking about how backwards Southerners were.
After this week, I laugh at the thought of hearing them say that stuff. See, this is the first time I’ve been here without having to do anything work related. Been working, but that wasn’t the purpose of the trip. That allowed me the chance to just hang around this piece and observe some things. Here are a few points I’d like to make.
1. I’ve seen more Jheri curls here than I’ve seen in four years in Durham. Granted, there are a lot more people here, but the proportion of curl wearers is still higher in NY than NC.
And they got the nerve to talk about us.
2. I saw a gorgeous baby girl, about six months old, with a mohawk.
And they got the nerve to talk about us.
3. Saw a woman in a chicken and waffle joint in Harlem with hair of orange, blond, brown AND white.
And they got the nerve to talk about us.
4. Was at the drug store a couple of days ago. An older woman, about 55, was on the phone. Outta nowhere she says “you shoulda pistol-whipped the muthafucka!” Loud enough for everyone to hear. Then you hear, “you shoulda blown the muthafucka’s head off!”
An employee tried to tell her to calm down because there were kids in the store. She looked around–btw, she had something closely resembling a curl–then said “where.”
Goes back to her conversation. “I’m talking like this cuz some sucka is minding my business and not his.” Then it got loud. Then she goes back to the phone conversation.
“He ain’t open the door when I came. He knows I would do him. We don’t follow this new world order. We make our own world order.” Whatever that meant.
And y’all got they got the nerve to talk about us.
5. Unrelated to the theme, here’s a funny. My fiancee went to get her hair braided. ‘Twas an African-owned establishment, and they had a lot of ladies in there braiding. They also had an interesting marketing team. That team was three or four women, dressed fully in traditional African dresses and headwraps, banging on the window at every woman that walked past, trying to get them to come in and get braided. Even white women got the treatment.
Now, who walks down the street feelin good and minding her own and things, “man, I sure would like to sit in this chair for hours and have my hair braided. Thanks so much for scaring me into remembering that’s what I really wanted to do”? These ladies were even running down the street to get people in the shop.
Oh well, keep the theme…and they got the nerve to talk about us.
For the next stop in my sociological tour of things north of where I live, we’re going to a wedding in Baltimore this weekend. Congrats to my man. Just make sure them li’l hoppers don’t come messin’ with me.