So...Friday night, I felt terrible. I fell asleep almost as soon as I got home only to be awakened by my neighbor. I'd left my keys in my door.
Saturday, I tried to clean up my apartment only to retire to bed after 20 minutes, feeling weak in the body. At about 3, I decided to get my nails done. Let me paint a picture for you: no make-up, circles under my eyes, black sweat pants, orange oversized T-shirt, white hoodie, white knit cap, red leather jacket, Converse-esque sneakers. Yes folks, I was styling and profiling...lol.
Anyways, this old guy was like can I listen to the other earbud(I was listening to music on my phone). I tried ignoring him but then he insisted. I said no. He went on and on about how we have a black president and we need to be better to each other. I was like dude, you're like 50 years old! Why are you even TRYING to mess with me? He kept going on and on and on. I got upset and was like...shut up! Didn't look back to see if he heard me or not. He stopped talking though, lol.
On the next block, this old Indian guy with rotting teeth and silver gray hair stopped and asked me for directions. I told him 3 times! I don't think he understood English very well. Finally, he gets it and then he's like what's your name, sweetie. Ugh! I just walked away.
After I got my nails done, I went to the corner store to pick up some Dayquil and OJ. I decided to play lotto scratch offs. As I ask the guy, he's like, "How old are you?"
"You got identification?"
"Does the owner know you?"
"I can't sell to you."
"How old do I look?"
I told Afroman. He said I should make a documentary about it. I declined. I was pissed off about it, though and then creeped out about it.
Went back home and was in and out of sleep once again. BFF called me at around 7. She had to take her friend to Harlem and then had to go to the Bronx for her uncle's birthday party. I still had on the same outfit from earlier. I told her I would ride with her but would sit in the car since I really shouldn't be around people.
We dropped her friend off in Harlem easily. She phoned her uncle to get the address and directions since we don't know the Bronx like that. We had to take the 135th St bridge to the Bruckner to Pelham Bay (which, if you know NYC, it is FAR from Kansas City aka Brooklyn as we know it). BFF was like Jesus be the 135th St Bridge and like 2 seconds later we were on it. As we were riding, BFF was like, God please help me find the Bruckner. Voila! A sign said it.
Her uncle was not picking up the phone and all we knew was that the party was on Westchester Avenue.
We had jokes like the Bronx is like Brooklyn 1985 - not a place you particularly want to be at 9pm, lost, and female. We found this random pizza parlor open that told us how to get to Westchester Ave. As we were approaching, BFF was like God please help me find this place. We saw this restaurant on the corner and I was like, yo BFF, this is the place. She was like...no, that's too easy. I'm just gonna ride up and down Westchester Ave. I was like...well sure, since your plan is so much better than peeking into the restaurant to see if it is them...*sarcasm*
We spent the next 30 minutes riding up and down Westchester Ave calling random members of her family. No one was picking up their cell phones. This is the over 50 crowd. They don't keep their phones on or next to them. I was like, BFF, I'm sick. Either we go back to that restaurant or we go home.
As I said that, her uncle called her back. It was that restaurant we saw. She was like, I'm so sorry. God directed us this far and he gave me a loud speaker in you and I ignored it. I'm sorry. As we valet parked, she was like...please come in with me. I was like...you're in pearls! I'm in sweats. I look like crap on a stick. No! She gave me puppy dog eyes and I gave in and immediately regretted it. Everyone was looking at me like I was a vagabond. This is the Cosby-type crowd. Her family is a bunch of doctors/lawyers/journalists/dual-degreed black folk and so, I was just like...yo, I'm sick. Feel sorry for me and they did. Lol
As we were in the Bronx, at 11:30pm, I get a text from KappaGuy. What are you doing right now?
NEGRO PLEASE! I didn't even respond.
We were following BFF's parents home. Her dad was switching lanes without signaling, running red lights. BFF was like..yo, let me just trust God to get us home because really..this is ridiculous. Lol. She got home before her parents did.
Yesterday, I went to church. The 11am service. I kept falling asleep. I hate the 11am service because I feel like there are too many people there looking in my face, looking at what I have on..just waiting to report to my mother or just ugh! Too much to deal with. Service was great though. I really believe God wanted me there. I went to brunch with BFF and her parents. I was supposed to go back to church for communion. I told myself I would nap for 20 minutes, I woke up at 5:45. Church started at 5. Went back to sleep. Woke up at 6 this morning. A bunch of missed calls and texts. One of them was Kappa Guy. I'm on your block. I'm on my way home from Fort Greene Park.
Oh well, guess it wasn't meant to be.