Ridamndiculous!

Oakland, Oakland, Oak. Land. Mm-Mm-Mm. What to say??? Where to start??? My adventures in the west coast of America would have been incomplete without a trip to the notorious Oakland area. On my first ever trip to this geographical location, I was accosted by a man in a T-Pain inspired top hat attempting to chat me up with a mouth full of what I was forced to conclude was aluminum foil masquerading as ‘Grillz’. Oh Hip-Hop, our children will judge you. Harshly. My short sojourn in the land of plenty, ‘God’s own land’ in the words of many immigrants, has revealed several mind numbing truths to me; I’m starting to believe that America is really Fools’ Paradise and I'm beginning to doubt the potency of the American dream, but I digress from today’s tale biko, that discussion is a serious matter for another day and maybe another place too.

We resolutely forge ahead. So, after bar class, I am standing at the bus stop. Waiting for my chariot to drive (do you drive a chariot? Or ride it? Or race it??) me home. Due to construction work at school we have all been forced to take classes for the bar in Oakland. This plan sucks, in fact I have to borrow a Nigerian slang I hate and declare that this plan “IS NOT BUNZ!!!!’ Who thought it would be a clever idea to have a whole group of Anglo-saxons crashing into one of the dingiest and dodgiest areas around San Francisco bay to take classes daily. Not the cleverest of ideas. I am black and even I don’t feel safe!

But I digress, standing at the bus stop awaiting my chariot. A certified crack-head comes up to me and proceeds to chat me up….[chai! see my life!]....How do I know he was a crack head? The Harlem-shake-neck-twisting-movements coupled with the scratching, kind of tipped me off. He stood there twisting his head and shoulders like he was listening to an invisible ipod.*hiss* Anyways, he goes on to tell me that he is turning 50 this year and is looking for a ‘wifey’. *le sigh* I proceed to inform him I am not a day over 16. He quickly asked when my birthday was and upon providing a fake month, he leered and happily told me its only a few months before I become an “adult of 17 then we can….”. YUCKITY YUCK!!! [R. Kellys of the world should be jailed]. I proceed to ignore him after favoring him with a dangerous ‘you-disgusting-amoeba- wither-and-die-post-haste' look. Then I turn around and pretend a deep interest in the granite. After a few minutes of talking to the back of my head, I hear him turn around and utter a scream!!!

Now in these here parts, on these grimy Oakland streets, someone screams and I automatically do 2 things, dive to the ground in a bid for cover or run as fast as my Veet-enabled pins can carry me! No stopping to check for the proverbial ‘shi-shi’. So Crackfiend screams and I’m about Usain Bolt my way from there but as I turn around, dear lawd, I too screamed..……in laughter!!!!

Alas urban jury, lo and behold, before my very eyes was a real-life pimp!! Live.In.Living.Colour! The jokes just wrote themselves from that point on! This fake-ass-gangsta-pseudo-pimp was garbed in the most entertaining outfit. ALL GREEN. Green. Top to toe. Every sickly shade of green you can imagine was on this clowns’ body as he marched down the street looking as proud as sin.*sigh* He had a dark green hat…complete with feather, mint green shoes with the matching mint trousers, olive shirt, dark green jacket AND to make it rain on you kneegroes and gentlefolks, this brother had a light green pimped out cane!!!!MAKE OF THAT WHAT YOU WILL!!!!!looooool!!!! I ALMOST DIED OF LAUGHTER! And of course trust that the scream emitted by the 50 year old Crack-Don who wanted to “Hola at me right quick” was a scream of welcome to his friend Veggie Pimp. Mon Dieu! America the great!