Friday, August 15, 2008

JACK ain't no snitch

So, there I was – minding my own business. I was sitting at the Billy Goat Café in downtown Chicago, on a stool facing the window and out into the street. I sat with my coworker, silently eating the best ham and cheese omelet EVER and grunting occasionally at my coworker when her Black ass wanted to say something. I can talk a good game, yes – but when I’m THAT hungry and am enjoying a meal THAT much … I bury my face in my plate and shovel in the calories as fast as humanly possible. So, I grunt (not unlike “The Ox.”)

But then my coworker said something interesting – she pointed out that that Black Cadillac SUV just came back. Sure enough, there it was. The same SUV that had just left. The two dudes in the front seat shook hands and the passenger disembarked and jaywalked onto the other side of the street. I commented on his ridiculous style, having an untucked polo shirt over some khakis with some sneakers on, and a back pack hanging off his right hand as he crossed the street. I mean, was he being professional or no – pick one.

And then she says that she was sure it was a drug deal. I considered the situation and forgot that I was hungry like a famished orphan with a bloated belly. And I agreed. The white dude driving the Cadillac was all of 25, if he was a day – and the SUV was FULLY loaded. Right there in front of me, a sidewalk’s width away, I could see the plush leather seats through the open passenger side window and the kiddy looking White dude with curly hair cascading down from his ball cap. (Whether or not it was fitted I could not tell) My coworker nods and proceeds to eat.

I nudge her a few moments later and we stare as a second white dude (as white as the half professional/half skateboarder that just walked away into the crowd across the street) boards the Black Cadillac, holding an open bottle of beer. Yes, it’s early enough for Billy Goat’s to be serving ham and cheese omelets and this cracker is drinking. That was odd in and of itself – but right there, in front of God and EVERYONE … an exchange. The driver takes his cash, the two shake hands and the alcoholic (and druggie, apparently) disembarks and heads across the same street as the semi-skateboarder.

“mhmm,” says my co-worker is perfect Black-woman-with-an-attitude fashion and we just stare at each other. She proceeds to discuss how that if it was a Black 25 year old driving a fully loaded Cadillac SUV, the Black dude would’ve been pulled over just for driving it. But this cracker right thurrr – he’s innocuous. And then – IT HITS ME.

“Girl, the problem is that if YOU AND I were White, we’d have the license plate number and be hanging up the phone with 911 right now.”

We stare at each other dumbfoundedly, stunned at our own incompetence. We sat there watching an illegal drug deal, had all the data available to us in order to anonymously report this crime and neither one of us could even tell you if the license plates were in- or out of state. What we COULD tell you was that the driver was White, about 25, both clients were white too, the car was FLY AS FUCK, fully loaded with plush leather and that the sunroof was open. The driver’s hair was curly and his hat was on backwards.

License plate? Nothing.

It’s the epitome of the world we live in. If the roles were reversed and the White people were in the restaurant watching the minorities exchange money for drugs – the cops would’ve been called. But in this scenario – the minorities just walked away, shaking our heads, talking about how unfair the world is.

So, while we ain’t snitches – we both agree … we SO should’ve gotten all the information we needed to report these damn mother fuckers. But our instinct was not to snitch.

I’m not sorry for feeling like this – perhaps it was better this way. White on White crime is just fine with me. If the buyer was a young Black or Latino … I probably would’ve perceived it differently. But whatever … go ahead, Curly – dope up them White boys.

But I must admit – THIS drug dealer didn’t look like a user. Yet another difference between the US and the THEM. Every last mother fucking pusher in *my* community dips into his own stash. What a pity – them White people have even perfected dealing drugs! Fuckers.


clnmike said...

Lol, yes they do have hustling to a science, but are you sure you saw a deal go down?

JACK said...

Do 12 pounds of flour make a big biscuit?

clnmike said...


The Jaded NYer said...

If *I* had been there, I probably would have convinced you to go over there and talk to the dealer, make him all nervous and shit, and then capture it all on video for our amusement.

'Cause I ain't no snitch, neither!

JACK said...

Jaded - I so wouldn'tve been afriad to speak to him neither. Hindsight sure is 20/20 - DAMN!