Sunday, January 27, 2008

It's a Small World After All

So I jumped onto the bus.

At this point the only seats left were towards the back in front of several handsome and young black men. At first this seemed all well and good for the quiet trip I was taking. It would be four hours till the layover of two hours and then two more hours before my arrival. Not a long bus trip and I had saved myself a fair amount of money by traveling this way.

The young men of course, seeing me approach all stopped talking at the same time as I settled my bags into the seat and prepared to get comfortable and hopefully sleepy during the trip. We pulled away from Chicago on the brisk morning and I enjoyed staring out the windows at the passing beauty of my fair city.

As the bus starts to pull away the driver turns on the microphone to make the usual sorts of announcements. Don't smoke, don't drink, don't be too loud, put your earphones on, and no firearms. At this I hear from behind me "Shit man, all us nigger gonna have to get up off the bus."

I just sort of ignore that one and try to unclench from the sudden tension that has taken hold of me. I don't turn around, though there is a part of me that wants to turn around. This is the city, being anonymous it the only saving grace sometimes of being in the city. So I don't turn around. But I can't turn off my ears. Their conversation is loud and hard to tune out. It goes on for most of the ride.

(Please be advised this is a dialogue between the guys behind me and may include language some would consider offensive. I'm sure I was a little off put but being on a bus I had no where to go. You, on the other hand, could just go read something else now, but if you have become fascinated, enjoy.)

"So's anyway," I hear from the back, "I tol' the shortie he got to drop that shit."

"Yo, yo, he got the handprints off it first, yo? Poe-lice and track that shit."

"Yeah, yeah, ain't no thing. That was done and he dropped that shit."

"Who'd he drop?"

"It was Red."

"Shit, yo, you know the nigger who dropped Red?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Man, small world. I knew that nigger before he got capped. From Seattle."

"Shit, yo, yous' from Seattle?"

"Yeah, man."

"You know Tiny Kevin?"

"Yo, yo, he's my nigger. Yeah, me and Kevin used to hang."

"Shit, I know the nigger who capped Kevin!"

They all turn around at the new voice that has entered the conversation.

"Yo, yo, what?"

"I know the nigger that capped Kevin."

"Shit, yo man, it's like a small…like a small gangsta world, yo."

If I thought it would be safe to go to the bathroom on that bus I might have considered peeing myself laughing but instead I turned up my MP3 player and just tried to take it all in.


Tony said...

Sara I couldn't help but laugh at this as I've been in similar experiences myself riding the MARTA (Metro Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority) in Atlanta many times. Maybe not the extent of the open confessions of murder but definitely the loud yo yo wut up dawg "gangsta" chatter from young black men. It does make everyone within ear shot nervous and that's why they do it. It's their "power" and they are too ignorant to know how ignorant and low life it makes them to the whole world. They confuse "fear" with "respect" and violence with strength of character and use intimidation to build their comfort zone to distance the real world from themselves.

Okay, I am babbling here and probably not making much sense and may even be pissing some folks off. Sorry, but I empathized with your story.

Saradevil said...

No no, it totally makes sense to me. It so terribly flagrant. I would have had more respect if they had been discussing Nietzsche but what are you going to do?

E said...

Oddly enough, it was I that capped Kevin.

Saradevil said...

I didn't realize you were on the bus? Had I known I would most certainly have struck up a conversation.