news from the 'hood

i’m a white boy.

yeah, i play some basketball, and i like a little urban diversity, but i’m still a suburban white boy.

so i was a little surprised recently by a couple of young black women.

here’s how it went.

me, walking alone down western avenue, at the end of pike place place market. up the hill from fisherman’s wharf, in the shadows cast by all of downtown seattle.

it was 7:30 a.m. sunday, and i’d just finished playing ball. i was sweaty and disheveled, and maybe a little stinky. but what the hell, i was heading toward my car to drive home.

anywho, i crossed paths with a couple of 20-something african-american women, both wearing lots of black lycra and sequins. and a leopard-print kind of arrangement. saturday night-wear, i supposed.

they were pleasant enough, but a little rough around the edges…in an early-morning-after-a-long-night kind of way. and one of them was a bit bent to one side—a hip problem, maybe, or something spine-related. nothing severe…she was just a little crooked.

they said “hi,” and i said “hi.” and the non-crooked one asked me for a dollar.

remember, i had just finished playing ball. i had no money. really. and even if i did, i wouldn’t be inclined to give it to either of these two. so i said, amiably, “no, i don’t have any money with me.”

apparently they’d heard that one before.

“you ain’t got any money?”
“no, not today.”
“well, when you gonna get some?”
“uhh…i’m not sure.”
“you don’t know?”
“nah, not exactly.”

the crooked one put her hand on her hip and looked me in the eye.

“do you need to talk about your career, and when you gonna get some money? ‘cause it sounds like you need to talk.”
“nah, i’m good. thanks.”
“you and me could go somewhere, you know, and talk. or whatever.”

it hit me then that these two had, in fact, had a long night, and were not ready to, uh, call it a day.

i smiled, shook my head, said “no, thanks.” and walked on. seven-thirty a.m., sunday morning. slightly bent hooker looking to talk about money.

i love this town.