Bayou Classic

A new concept for you. I’ll start each entry with ten favorites, or maybe even disfavorites.

10 favorite rap artists, kind of in order

10. Nas

9. B.I.G

8. Slick Rick

7. Jay-z

6. Posdanous

4. tie-Dre/Big Boi

3. Q tip

2. Mos Def

1. The man: Tupac

10:00ish I sit at home setting up the blogspot. Me, Jared, Rome, quick, Lee, Sheike, Jam, Mysheka, Lee, Chip maybe Byron, Cook, big shirtless, and Jen are supposed to meet at the Shiloh presumably to drink before we head downtown to either the casino or Canal/Borboun st area. Jared is leaving tomorrow and although I’ll probably see him in a month when I help Kibwe drive to Chicago there’s no telling because nothing is for certain with us til the moment before it happens. He has never been to the and since no one else is interested in coming up with a plan we’ll go with his and mine. Funny we never planned anything in our lives as far as going out. note: Are we starting to act like adults? Need to drink quickly. There’s only one thing. We were supposed to be meeting for 10 and I still need to go home and get dressed.

12:00 ish I arrive at Chip’s house. For whatever reason we’ve decided to meet here even though this is the furthest point in the city from any of our destinations. Probably some grand conspiracy by the powers that be to end us up in the house and not on the streets of downtown. Usually that’s right up my alley. But Bayou Classic has many a pretty faced, large backsided black woman. And none of them will be in Chip’s living room. Naturally I’m the first to arrive at the pre-arranged meeting spot. I don’t assume we’ll make any progressive movement til 1 am or so. Slowly people start to arrive. Gradually the room fills out and all expected parties make their entrance. Then instead of a migration towards the door they make themselves comfortable. I am informed that the plan is to go to Shiloh for 1. So I leave to go home and change then meet everyone. Quick, Causey and Ron follow me out the door. Nick has his own agenda. Let’s ditch the dead weight and head downtown now. I think it over. I don’t really want to skip the Shiloh but we are getting a much later start than we initially intended.

2:00 ish I’m trailing the group trying to find an excuse to go back to the casino. We are on Borboun now and everyone here who isn’t me or with me has either a t-shirt, a throwback jersey, Gold teeth or some combination of the three. There are some really attractive women but I only see them for an instant as the crowd pushes me forward and them in opposite directions against our will. Stopping for conversation is a figment of my imagination. I keep thinking to myself “You can definitely get shot twice in a lifetime even by accident, the smart move is to GO HOME.” I see Policemen in the approaching block. I’m not a big fan of the police, but I am a fan of Police presence in this paricular case. My friends joke about the proportion of people to guns present. I’m not amused. I’m losing gorund with my friends. We get separated by a parting crowd. They’re making room for two people with hands at each others throats. I back up slowly careful not to take my eyes of them. If guns come out I want to be the first one to see them, so I can be the first person to duck and cover. The larger of the two swings and connects with the other. The Smaller man’s girlfriend pushes him away as if she’s actually necessary to hold him back. Having the excuse he needs he walks backwards still staring hostily at the man who floored him for the whole of Bayou Classic to see. A fight with no Guns…close enough. It’s time for me to go. I tell Nick I’ll be at Harrah’s and to catch up with me later. I begin making my way back to Harrahs this time walking down a less populated side street. Funny that there are more police on this street than I saw the whole time I was on Borboun. I guess the cops don’t want to get involved in any altercations either.

4:00 ish I’ve come across a lot of really good looking women tonight. It’s always nice to be in the company of good looking women. Especially when you look good yourself and you get positive attention from them. It’s not what it used to be but I still get some looks and some smiles here and there. Nothing really inspires me to speak to any of these women. I like pretty faces but that’s not good enough. In my head I’m thinking “I don’t want to talk to you. I’m interested in someone worth making a wife. Stick your butt back in first.” I’m standing at the buffet with Jared negotating how we are going to divy the crew up for the ride home since some of us are eating and some are not. Just as I’m thinking to myself there’s no reasonable way to make it happen without just waiting for those eating to finish eating Erin Domingue walks towards me. I reach out and tap her elbow as she goes towards the buffet.

Gian: Hey.

Erin: (now recognizing me. It’s been about 6 years) Hey!!!!

Gian: How are you doing?

Erin: Good!

Gian: What are you doing?

Erin: We’re in Dallas now

Gian: Oh ok. Where’s your sister?

Erin: She’s here.

Gian: She’s in here now?

Erin: no She’s in town. She’s at the hotel…with her husband.”

Gian: (Nigga I know she’s got a husband. I wasn’t trying to get back with her, I just was asking about her) ok. well it was good seeing you.

Erin: bye

I wonder if she’ll tell Chanda she saw me. My attention turns back to Jared. I was talking about something but I can’t remember what.

Gian: what was I saying?

Jared: We were talking about who’s riding with who. Then you started thinking about Chanda?

Gian: nah

Jared: yeah right.

we both laugh. Jared goes in to eat and I go off to walk with my friends around the casino but my energy is sapped. And all of a sudden I can’t remember a single face I’ve seen all night. I see Erin’s face and for the first time ever to me she looks like Chanda. And I think of how inferior these girls poking their butts out and showing off for niggas with throwbacks are. And I think of her affection. And I think of her sweet breath in my nose. And I sit amazed at myself that I’m still affected by her this way after so long. And I taste sadness. And I halfway hope I don’t dream about her tonight. And I halfway hope I do.


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