One Night In Oakland.

Gademm!!!! The soul is weak and the brain is tired oh!!! For the last few weeks I have been forcing my brain to cram page after page of mind-numbingly boring information...after so many years of minimum activity, its almost painful to have to actively utilise my brain cells to maximum capacity....and I can tell my brain does not appreciate the effort, I can just visualise the NASTY(or nEsty, if you’re P-Square) looks it must be giving me as it stares accusingly in a state of shock at receiving all this boringness, it must be thinking; “O girl take style calm your blood oh! Wetin be this one now?!?! After 22 years of pushing all sorts of sweet gist and laughter inside here na now you want make i begin dey memorise this kind nonsense as if I no get better thing to do! Stop am oh because if to say I come vex like this hhhmmmm you no go like am.....*pulls imaginary ear like a Nigerian mother*” Oh, if our parts could speak. 

Seriously, my brain is  saving more information than it has EVER had to and its reflecting in the way I reason. Yesterday I met up with some of my best girlfriends (and if hip hop is to be believed, Ma Dawgz.... BET must be cut from my diet STAT) one of them was talking about a club that had to close in NYC because a bouncer mistakenly killed a man in the process of separating a fight the man was involved in.  And  in the midst of all the OMG’s and gasps, all I could think was, “What kind of homicide would that be??1st degree?2nd? Aggravated?Manslaughter?....In Multi-state? And in New York??!!...then become secretly panicked when I wasn’t sure of the answer. Its disgusting, I swear I used to be cool. No, really. Lawyers are liars. 

Today I didn’t get any real work done, the reason is two fold. 1. My mind is tahhhd!!! Oooo child, mama tiiiired!! Secondly *whispers shamefaced* I went out yesterday. Yes. Audacious and true, but I studied until the very last moment & I finised Contracts yesterday so a celebration was in order me thinks *tries to fight her guilt* Anyways, I went to celebrate one of my best mates last night in Cali...and all sort of foolery commenced because...(you guessed it), we went out in Oakland....yes, I myself do wonder from time to time, “Am I a masochist?!”

Before now, I have only once gone a-partying in Oakland....intense self-preservation and a general aberrance of hoodrat hoetivity keeps me away from that area after the clock's gentle fingers tenderly stroke the hour of 6p.m. Partying is strictly restricted to San Francisco...where I know the craziest people aren’t really checking for me like that...now if I were say, a young metrosexual man, the chances may be higher....Seriously, what other city do you see a ‘Suitable Suitor’ (as my bff calls men of the appealing variety) and immediately assess the following; 1. Who did he come with? 2.Are his friends wearing v-necks? 3. If yes to 2, are said v-necks of the tight, body-hugging variety? 4. Are said friends holding hands...or moving with a distinctly feminine gait?....Yup! Ooooh hell!!

Anyway, it was for such a purpose, i.e dancing our worries away, that Friday evening found us in Oakland around the witchly hour of midnight....we arrived in LBD’s that comfortably balanced class with style and a little sprinkling of Diva Dust...shameless self-promotion.....mais c’est vrai.  In other words we looked distinctly out of place in a small Oakland club reminiscent of a 'mama-put-joint-conveniently-converted-to-a-club (where stale Star beer, Guinness, fresh palm wine, and you suspect Nkwo-bi, will be plentiful).  So in we strolled, stared around....and proceeded to clutch our pearls and purses simultaneously as we accessed the caliber of people. Using the strict standards taught to us at the Elite Club Of Advanced Snobs a.k.a On Mama's Lap. It was a disappointing array of all that is wrong with the world....seriously, there were men without teeth there. Make of that what you will. (I should qualify that 'without teeth' extends to those missing a substantial number of incisors as well as those the jury finds guilty of the dreaded ‘aluminum foil masquerading as grillz’ foolishness. All toothless negroes to me.*shrugs* ).

Regardless of the fact that the ‘club’ looked like a cross between said Nkwo-bi joint & native doctor shrine; with its faded red curtains and corresponding green and red light bulbs, we decided that as we had arrived past midnight due to watches set to the internationally criticised CPT (Coloured Peoples Time; +2 to +4 hours depending on the Noirs in question....Nigerians are honourably categorised in the +4 to +6 hr category due to our ‘Effizy’ and love for excess, which were all in evidence last night), we decided that we might as well stay. The fact that the drive from Stanford(from whence my friends started their missionary journey) to Oakland is at least an hour (all in the name of dancing!) also meant that our designated driver wasn’t set on driving anywhere soon especially not with the current recession-defying gas prices!

So after sizing up the crowd as a mix of fun-lovers, hoodrats and people whose where-abouts the United States Immigration Department would dearly love to be informed of, we decided to throw caution to the wind in a ‘life gives you lemons, you best gets to squeezing...and shaking....& skanky-legging’ move and we headed to the dance floor.

So into the sweaty, rather smelly crowd we went...I did say that this ‘club’ was the size of a maggi cube right? And everyone and their play cousin had come to squeeze, shake & skanky-leg. Well, not 10 minutes after we had perched our purses on the nearest table and begun to dance, a sudden scrambling began, raised voices were heard, anxiety was sensed as we spotted a lady, poised in an Amazonian stance, bottle raised atop her head as she prepared to go for the jugular of her worthy opponent. 

Ok that was an exaggeration.

 Two women...or two cliques, it wasn’t really clear, were about to tear weaves and fake lashes from each other with fake nails. WE weren't interested in getting a bit of acrylic in our eye or some gel on our dresses... we didnt even wait to understand what was going on, once people started shouting, all Reps of the E.C.A.S picked race....the next few seconds found us outside with mean mugs, once again clutching to pearls, purses & each others phallanges, promising God that if he rescued us from any ghetto crimes(The term Ghetto Crimes refers to crimes involving gel & bad weaves, acrylic nails longer than 4 inches, stabbings with broken bottles....you see where I'm going...), we would never again be found on the grimy streets of Oakland when resident GoodGirls were in bed.

Well as the story goes, the party quickly continued as if nothing happened...prompting the suspicion that this is the standard for Oakland parties...???....I bet if there was no fight people would have gone home like “Man that party was wack!! Not ONE broken bottle?Niggas came in and left WHOLE, NO injury, NO ambulance...NOTHING?!I mean WTF?!?!” Anyways, soon we were left with other chickens outside looking around a-scared. Upon realising our chicken was showing, we channeled our inner Gangsta and headed back into the club on a ‘Nothing Do Us’  deez.....with hearts secretly beating fast.

Lets just say the rest of the night just got more entertaining, I have not seen so many toothless men, swaggerless gremlins, grilled out fellows or indeed midgets in one place at one time. The d.j was obviously stuck somewhere in the early 2000’s with his selection of African music, and his interruptions with “BAD-DAY shout outs to the celebrants....” ....and the last number of the night which he announced to be ‘BAD-DAY SESSSS’ ('Birthday Sex' to English speakers) had us side-eyeing this negro like it was HIS bad-day, all night. Add this to the fact that one particular midget negro almost killed us with laughter and you see it was a rather 'interesting' night.

After approaching us in his body-hugging black shirt that would make Herve Ledger rather jealous, stylishly matched with free flowing white HIPSTERS....*pause* and getting promptly Nexted!, this hombre proceeded to strike a pose and watch us dance for the remainder of the evening. Upon being recognised for the swaggerless being that he is and promptly ignored, hombre looks at us like “WAIT, YOU DONT KNOW WHO YOU’RE DEALING WITH...I WILL SHOW YOU!!!”...Now we are all slightly curious and wary as he slipped his hand into his pocket....and pulls out the DARKEST sunshades known to mankind! After that grand gesture, he puts on the glasses, poses, then slowly turns and looks at us....and I can actually hear him ask us one question in his mind.....“Who’s Bad?” I.Almost.Died.