Crazy midget people from California…

A long time ago, way way back in 1998, I fell in love. I mean it was the type of shit that you seen in movies. Matter of fact, you did see it in the movies. That movie was You Got Mail. It is well known that when t comes to the working world, that I do my best to be the best slacker. And what better way than to hone my skills, than using up my company’s bandwidth to be on yahoo chat for at least six hours of the workday. I still don’t think they caught on. It was a cable company, and high speed broadband was just introduced in the area. And being a sometimesy tech head, I went for the gig. With my resume, I was a shoe in.

Fast-forward maybe a year, and all I did was chat, there was nothing else much to do. I mean I could have easily done the help desk thing and helped paying customers. But I had a moral obligation not to sometimes. Then, day trading was at an all time high. Mix that with all time highs of outages makes for an angry day trading customer. I like foul language as much as the next guy, but direct it towards me, and you are lucky if I speak with my natural language.

I had a good friend that worked with me who introduced me to it. Everyday, she was hanging up on customers and laughing her ass off, while keeping her gig. I had to get on this program. All of in the office had instant messenger programs to chat with each other, so I wasn’t lacking the requirements. She gave me the info, and a star was born. My initial screen name was domeaflava. Derived from my AOL account, which was bigflava, which wasn’t available on yahoo. Which is fucked up. I was using bigflava since that damned web TV. Any of you remember that? It was like watching molasses. It was so slow; the TV would just be creeping, waiting for a connection. I sent the makers of it an email, requesting that perhaps it would be a grand idea to show some naked hoes on the screen shaking their ass while connecting I don’t even know if they replied. That was very marketable

So, anyhoo. Pay attention, I took it back, and then I took it back some more, and I’m taking it back to where it was where I took it back to begin with, now we are back at that point, but I will go back if I understood what I just wrote. (Long pause for me)
Oh! So, I am in this chat and that’s all some of us are doing at work like all day long. I would giggle like a bigheaded Cuban chick when I thought about getting paid for chatting and hanging up on angry customers. I mean I assisted sometimes, but that’s because a manger would let us know we’d be getting listened too. God bless that woman. About a year into the job (can you imagine???) I have met me a gang of people from all over the globe. You had an online version of everything you had in the so-called real life. Pimps, player, hoes, well turns out, most of them hoes were real life hoes. But in my mind, everyone was a poser. All the arguments were over who had this and what. Who is really balling, and etc etc. I still find it funny to this day that there is so many folks online who build up a web persona that is a 180-degree turn from what they actually are. Ma, oh man, I found out the fucking hard way.

One day I said something about st. Irish day, that would have been very offensive to the Irish, but being that I said it on st. Irish day, I am pretty sure no one read it, because most of them were drunk as shit. Hey, don’t get mad at me. If you drink green beer, you have an alcohol problem. Not to mention the leprechauns. Wait, is it even called st. Irish day?
Ahhhh, I mean st. Patrick’s Day. I am drinking a beer right now, but it isn’t green, it’s a Heineken.

So, this chick from California who I guess I can say was cool with me send me a message about how she just had to talk to me after I made that witty comment. I didn’t even find that amusing, and I don’t even remember. But that was the beginning of it all. From that point on, we spoke maybe everyday for 6 months, on the phone, online, you name the equipment, and we used it to talk on it. The thing is that I was 3,000 miles away, and I could not really be serious about this at all. Fifteen hundred miles, eh, maybe, but jersey to Cali is one hell of a fucking commute.

But I was getting antsy, I saw a few pics of her, and she of me, courtesy of Blackplanet.com. Something was off in her pics to me somehow. I am laughing out loud because I know I should have seen this coming. You see, I fall for things that others don’t, a voice used to get me, and her voice was just like nothing I ever heard before. Got my dick hard. But then again, so does a hard gust of wind, soooooooo. The pic she sent me was of her and her younger brother. The pic looked kind of dated, but still. I kept it going.

I made the decision to go out to see her. Now, this wasn’t easy, because I am very cheap. No, actually, I am always on a budget. At least that’s what close friends and exes seem to say. So, I decided to fly southwest, they had a deal. I was budgeting. No matter how much money I had in my account, I was going to make this the cheapest trip possible. But Ahhhh haaaaaaaa, there is always bullshit when you try to save. At the time southwest was not flying from Newark, I had to get to Baltimore to catch the flight. Motherfucker!!! That is $69 round trip from Newark to bmore and back. I could have changed airlines I guess. I look online, tickets are $300 more. So, budgetly speaking, the bus trip didn’t seem all that bad to me at that point. At the time I had long locs, and I went to Beautiful’s house to get them twisted up. I love that woman. But I’m telling her about my trip and we are discussing it, and I tell her that I have to get to bmore for the trip. Well, wouldn’t ya know, she was going down the same night as my flight. Gold Star information!!!! It almost seemed like fate or destiny.

Destiny my ass, something had happened with Beautiful, and she wasn’t going to be able to make the trip. I wasn’t mad, it was last minute, and we come from a place where shit happens. So, all this means is that, yes I will have to buy the tickets for the bus. Gold Star Shitformation!!!! Not only do I have to buy the tickets for the bus, but also the bus leaving Newark that night was the only one going there that night. Which mean that I would arrive in Baltimore, 6 or 7 hours before my flight took off. This shit is getting better every second. And yes ladies and germs, that’s what you call sarcasm. Fuck it, I was on a mission, I don’t know if those tickets were refundable, or I can’t remember. There were many reasons to go, I haven’t been out west for about 7 years, and it was the middle of January. So here, it was cold, as you couldn’t believe.

Shit, I just thought of something. I remember the jacket I had on for the trip, and I was wearing that jacket when I was dating a chick where I was. Damn, I think she thinks we were exclusive. Maybe we were, just not when I was in California. Now, that’s good science.

Before I even board the bus, I am at the liquor store. At that point I hadn’t flown in some years, and I was quite nervous about it. When I worked at the airport and had to go into the cockpit, there always a shit load of stickers that said “inoperable”. Here I am the guy fueling the plane, hand the slip to the captain, and all the gauges have yellow stickers on them. Damn. So I get the Hennessey from the lq, and I am off and on my way to bmore. I was excited about the trip, and I had a few swigs on the bus to calm my nerves. The cut chick next to me said I was dead wrong for drinking on the bus. I asked her how wrong would I be if I offered the driver some at the next rest stop? She buttoned her lips. That didn’t last long, because she was asking for a swig to fight off the night chill. Uh huh, playing that fake do gooder shit. She knew about the Hennessey dick. Got the number, don’t think we ever spoke again though.

So, we get to Baltimore, it had to be like 2am in the morning. Still cold because it is still the east coast. What the hell was I going to do at the greyhound bus station for about 6 hours? What the hell was I going to do? Not a damn thing, that’s what!! Here it is 2am, and there are nigga lined up around the station, like a club just closed or something. I’m looking around like what the hell is this shit? When I say crowded, it was crowded, for that time of morning, in the winter, helllssss naw. This older dude comes up and asks if I need a ride. First I was like I’m cool, because who is this greasy old man, trying to give me a ride. I asked over and over was he a cab driver; he kept saying “I give rides for people”. The hell does that mean Grady? I relented, because I figured its better to be in the airport knocked out, then getting knocked out at the greyhound station. What was weird about the ride is that I never rode up front in a cab, that shit doesn’t go down here.
Get to the airport, and I am only slightly buzzed, I knock off about half of the henny and coke I had in the bottle, and laid my ass down. That was a good assed sleep. Probably the last time I slept good the rest of that week.

Yeeeeeeeeeeeeonnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. That is my impersonation of a plane taking off. I was on my way baby! This is what I learned about airplane travel. The cheaper you pay, the more stops your ass is going to make. There was this white kid on the flight. Matter of fact, he was going to Cali too. Everytime we stopped at another city, he and I were the only passengers left until the end of the trip. He and I started drinking EARLY; I guess he had the same fears. The first stop was in Chicago. I don’t know why it took that long to get there. There was a shit load of turbulence. Know what that means? You got it, more drinks. Since there was a storm or some shit, I think we had to circle around until we landed or whatever. I was a nervous drunk, man, I tell ya. By the time we landed, we were sitting there laughing at this trip we were on. There were THREE more stops until we hit California. I didn’t get it. I think you can have jet lag while in flight. I kept passing out, waking up, going back to sleep, waking up. And when I woke up, there was a drink in front of me, courtesy of my new flight white friend. The next three stops were Kansas City; I think Houston, and then phoenix. I don’t know, all I know is that I was never flying cheap again. But I do know that if I do, I’d have a drinking buddy.

So, I get there, sunny California, wait, sunny, hot, hot as shit. I have this giant assed turtleneck on, underneath, there’s a tank top, a thermal, and a sleeveless tee. I’m walking around; there are chicks in shorts and flip flaps. And here I am, long ass dreads, leather jacket, looking like shaft 2000. Hush yo mouth. I’m walking out through the airport, and as I’m walking, here she comes. She looked like the picture. Sort of. Not bad looking at all, just a tad, a smidge, uh, um, a lil bit older. But again, not bad looking at all. Soon as she sees me, she is all over me. Tongue down the throat, we ass grabbing in the airport like I just came home from the war. Fuck it; I knew what was going to happen later. You guessed it. A mess load of passionate, mind numbing, glorious, unbelievable, and diabolical….

DRAMA. And not just any regular old drama. This is 3000 miles away from home drama. This is just cant call ya boys up cause you beefing drama. This is I aint got a damn friend in the world in Cali drama. This is oh shit, I forgot about the west coast east coast drama, drama. This is cant call home to get bail posted because ya family told ya ass not to go in the first place you jackass drama.

So we are driving throughout her city, and the place is wonderful. The palm trees, the big assed streets. The weather was great. We are in her minivan(hint,hint,hint), and I am just loving it. She is asking me if I could se myself living out there, and did I realize that she could make me very happy if I stayed. I was caught up by the beaches, and some of the lights, and the port, I was just diggin it, so I was like yeah, why not. We go to her mother’s house to get her son, who was about two or three. Her mother was very nice, and had prepared a meal, or as I like to call it, horrible fucking soup. So I am sitting there trying to eat this um, creation, it was very hard to smile and look grateful while doing so. I couldn’t help but to think if they threw a net in the water by their house, and just said, “looks edible, fuck it, I name thee dinner!”. Ole girl was obviously ready to bounce out and go do something else. Her moms asked if her son could stay another night. She said sure. That was my queue to eat the soup like Jesus made it. Yum!

Off we go to her house. As soon as we get in the house it is almost like a movie, clothes are being taken off. A lot of kiss face going on. Oh yeah, it was about to happen. We went from the living room to the bedroom. But I went right back downstairs to get the rubbers. This shit was going to be on and poppin. She had that mother hearing down to a science already, for a mom of a two year old. Because she heard a key hit the door. It was funny, I heard nothing, except my dick asking “hey, where da pussy at?” Well shit, who comes in? No one but her seventeen-year-old younger brother, coming in to get his skateboard. They yell at each other for a minute, he mumbles something and bounces. She then said, she felt funny, and would like to go out to eat or something, because we had a ton of time. I agreed, but my dick kept talking “all this up and down is bad for my nerves”. Well, nerves, funny he should mention that.

So, as we get ready to go to the minivan (hintniggahinthint), a dude comes from behind the motherfucking bushes from nowhere. I mean, there was a shit load of bushes. The bushes had to be at least 5 feet. And he walked from behind them, not jumped like arrrgghhhhh! But walked calmly up to her, and just started yelling. And as if on queue, she starts going at it with him, like this was the norm. And I remember her saying, “oh boy”, like it was a regular occurrence. Well, I am about 6’1.75”. He is sizing me up, but not even menacing or anything. He just says,
“Look bro, I don’t know you, but this bitch, is no good bro, no good, I’m sorry, but she s no fucking good.

She cuts him off, as women caught in some shit tend to do when they wrong. Well, guess how wrong she is. He says to her..

“Where are my fucking kids? Are they at so and so’s house again? Where are the girls? Where are the fucking kids?”

Me, I don’t even say anything, and I wasn’t scared or anything, I was just looking around for cameras. This had to be a joke, had to be, just hadddddddd to be. If you know me, I like to observe. So I calmly lit a cigarette, leaned on the minivan(nomorehints) and smoked, and laughed my ass off. I’m sitting there thinking, “Kids, that’s plural.” He then says…

“I can’t wait to get a fucking divorce from you!!!”

“Damn, you’re married too?”

She doesn’t answer.

In hindsight that should’ve been the least of my concern, she denied her fucking kids. But at that time I wasn’t a father, so I guess it wasn’t that big of a deal. So then, I start asking the dude questions like, how many kids, ya’ll still fucking?, does she give head? The shit you should ask all of your new interest’s exes. He goes on to answer the most serious of the questions. Four kids, and the kid that was damn near 18 was her oldest son. My jaw dropped. I just thought it was the twilight zone. I wish there was a picture taken at that very moment, because I know the look on my face had to be something like bush would make when getting asked a touch question. You know, just confused as shit.

I could detail the rest of my trip, but I have been up all night. I have made her feel guilty enough in all the years since it happened. I will say that I did forgive her. Oh, I still smashed, don’t get it twisted. I see why that little dude was waiting behind the bushes. And she was going through something. That’s no excuse, but I’m sure she was. I met her kids, her boys, and her two girls, and I love them to death, and they still remember me as the giant with dreadlocks. They were the sweetest kids ever. All of them. I met her best friends, and her friend’s mom, as well as her friend’s boyfriends. I bonded with all of them instantly. Gang dudes at that. And they were the coolest best weed havingest in the whole wide world. I don’t know if they got the pic still. Apparently I smoked, I drank, and fell asleep on the couch with a bottle in my hand and a big assed weed grin on my face. It was the exact environment I was looking for. I was comfortable. I am still friends with them all to this day, the oldest daughter started college this year, and I stay getting pics of them, prom pics, and just regular pics. Updates on everything. I still love her despite it all. And when I got back home, and went back to work, its as it never happened. No one knew, I said nothing to anyone, she said nothing to anyone, and that’s why we remained friends. I had enough sense not to put her private family life in the ears or to the eyes of anyone. But you cannot build anything based on a lie, because it is deemed to fail when the truth comes out to rear its big assed head. And you can’t get mad when you are caught out there. Especially, in sunny California.