Sometimes I think my morning work commute could make a best selling novel, a tale of the truly bizarre.
This morning I stopped to purchase a newspaper, a diet Pepsi and a pack of smokes before heading out for work. As I entered the convenience store I took notice of a tall brother standing at the register waiting in line to be rung up. He seemed rather odd and I'm ashamed to admit I became a little suspicious of him. Not because he was black, but there was something extremely off about him. I could place my finger on it at the time; still can't. I wasn't afraid for my safety, I know how to handle myself and how to be inconspicuous if needed, but his odd appearance and mannerisms were enough to be on edge. I didn't want to be near him in case he was a nut job off the streets. Another local convenience store was robbed in my area recently, which is truly amazing, given I literally live right next to the township police department. Crime is definitely on the rise.
Forgive my poor description skills, but "brutha man" was a tall, lanky, clay colored complexion man of indeterminate age. His appearance was of someone trying to look much younger than what he was. He wasn't very successful. His attempt was something in his mid 20s and I gather he he probably was in his mid to late 40s, if not his early 50s. In both ears were thick diamond stud earrings and a silver bracelet was strapped across his one wrist, with the other having some gaudy bauble dangling from his arm. "OK," I thought to myself, "If my friend here is gonna rob the place, at least I know he's family!" Brutha-man completed his ensemble with a silver rope necklace and and over sized Jackie-O sunglasses. On top of his head was a Yankees ball call covering a shock of orange colored hair, which hand traces of silver and grey around the edges and the nape of his neck. The hair, naturally, had to have been dyed. "Oh honey you are deep in denial about your real age," I again thought to myself.
My oddly dressed, deep in age denial friend, had a slightly nice body for being lanky. His was lean and sinewy, with muscular arms. However, when I got a closer view of his face, he reminded me of some crack-heads I've known. (I hate to judge, I just got that vibe. I know several crackerjacks that trick frequently for their shit. Sad.) His face was beat-down, definitely not attractive in any sense to me. Perhaps once upon a time, but not today. His clothes fit well, revealing just enough ass cleavage to reinforce his a card carrying homo.
I'm watching him cashing out, waiting patiently 'cause I hadn't yet had my morning smoke, jonesing for my nicotine. He spoke to the Pakistani cashier and his voice sound scratchy and high pitched. Definitely sounded like some junkies I've known. The proprietor told him to have a nice day.
"Hmm? What's that? Have a blessed day? Huh?" asked the suspect junkie.
"No, no, no, sir. I say have a GREAT day." corrected the store owner, obviously a bit uncomfortable and showing sings he wanted the patron out of the store as much as I did.
"OOOOOOH! OK. You too!" squawked the anomaly and I watched him sashay out the door. Interesting. From first glance, I knew instantly he was gay, but I didn't realize how over the top gay. DAAYYYYYMMMN! When some men go queer, they really go for the full statement, don't they. LOL. Again, I'm not judging, just amused. The later could be a statement about my own insecurities, but I'm just not a big fan of overly exaggerated, effeminate men. I'm not. I hate the typical gay black queenly stereotype. I'm not hating on them, just the stereotype tends to often be heaped on gay black men. Traditionally gay black men are assigned to two groupings, the over hyped, butch masculine types or the swishy, Lamar-esque queens. (For those not familiar with "Lamar," think the gay character from Revenge of the Nerds movies from the 80s.)
So where does that put me? Ah, yes. The reoccurring theme in my life is I'm neither-nor. At least I had some laughs driving before hitting the punch card.
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