Punk ass bitch, I'm talking to you

I walked out the door around 11:30pm and just started walking. While I don’t live next to Carbini Green there are some dodgy areas. Makes a geeky, white boy like me breathe a little faster and sweat a little more. Late at night it’s just that much scarier. I was looking for a place to sit down and write.

I started walking down Gaston from Munger and I see a bunch of black guys sitting on the front stoop of an apartment and other ones just standing around. They see me and start trying to get my attention, calling me names, and decide I’m just some “punk ass bitch” that ain’t worth messing with.

A little bit further down Gaston this guy across the street says something like “Hey.” I figure he’s just talking to someone on his cell phone really loud and carry on. A little bit later I turn around and see it’s not just some guy, it’s a really big black guy and he’s following me. Imagine Tom ‘Tiny’ Lister Jr. and you’re close. He has some woman following after him and they are both trying to catch up with me. He’s yelling after me to stop so I stop and watch. He tells me he won’t hurt me so I wait. I guess the night time panhandlers just work a little harder.

When he catches up to me he’s like “I thought you had head phones on. Why didn’t you stop when I called you?” I’m thinking rhetorical question, but I give him the cell phone answer. Then he and the girl break into the sob story about how they want to get on the bus and they need money. They’re both drunk, and he has a beer in his hand. I do the whole “I don’t have any money (I hope they can’t tell I really have $20 in my pocket)” thing and give them the change I have.

I stop at the Lakewood Branch Library and try to write but I’m just to jumpy. I walk back home on the “latino side” of the neighborhoods and don’t get hassled at all. Is it a language barrier thing? Is it an ethnic thing? I feel like an asshole for not really talking to the panhandler guy. If he had looked more like me I would’ve talked to him. I would have found out where he came from and where he was going.

Walking home I remember how Leia wouldn’t walk in my old apartment courtyard at night and have a little laugh.