anthony king revisited

further down 31st st. the neighborhoods progressively worsen (its a sad truth that you can tell this by the ratio of african-americans /colored folks to white peeps). i find a grocery store. park the car. a little concerned, but not much, by all the people hanging out in their cars in the parking lot. then by the grocery store itself. there's bars on all the windows. 2 cops manning the entrance. is this a prison or a grocery store? get inside, walk around. notice i'm one of 2 white people in the entire store. the other one is an elderly guy with some funky walker contraption and humpback. grab an apple and get in line at one of the registers. a drunk lady stumbles by me. works her way up front and bumps into the non-opening entrance door; like a bird hitting a window. no luck. she bumps into the entrance door again. no luck. she bumps into the entrance door again. still no luck. a cop finally escorts her to the proper exit. lets her go with a warning. guy in front of me comments on the drunk lady. "she needs to lay off the drugs and alcohol. she can't be coming in here like that. she's gonna get herself killed..." says he used to be like that, but since he's been out of jail (for shooting some guy), he's laid off drugs and alcohol. the cashier then re-iterates his sentiments with a tale of her own imprisonment, release, and current freedom of drugs and alcohol. "i'm working on it myself," i say. they look at me weird. don't think they expected me to open my mouth.

kind of surprised myself that i wasn't scared. maybe i should've been? sure don't want to go back though. maybe i got some props that day for being the only white kid in there; and not a cop, at that. just some white boy buying an apple in a ghetto grocery store. must have some big brass balls, or no brains, or both. regardless, it was quite an experience hearing the two of them exchange tales of crimes, drugs, and jail. reminds me of my conversation with anthony king.