nin137

Nick's Journal
2005-06-11 18:37:46 (UTC)

The Stick-Up

being a socialist, josh decided that he should spread his
communal hunger amongst the pizza store across from the firm
for lunch. i decided to go with him as i thought that i
need a good reason to go out and walk about in the gorgeous
(yet insanely hot) day. we entered the pizza shop and as
the cool air blasted my sweaty face i already heard the
first "whoop!" i looked over and saw three thugged out
black guys eating pizza. god damn they were being loud,
you'd think that eating pizza wouldn't require a lot of
whooping and whistling but apparently it does when you're
black. two of the guys looked like brothers (no pun
intended) wearing wife-beaters and sipping on sprite. the
third was wearing one of those large black shirts that
looked like it could fit the entire italian population, with
a huge gold chaing hanging down the front, his hair in a
dissarray that i suppose is the retro afro look.
josh and i walked up to the counter and the manager gave me
this look that white people give me a lot when black people
are around, specifically it conveys,
"yeah its a disgrace but we have to let them be because they
are black."
i absoluetly hate this look, mainly because i hate that
anyone should think that they have any kinship towards me in
anyway. i rolled my eyes which i assume he took as an
aknowledgement instead of a refutation.
josh and i went outside and sat down under an umbrella in
the sweltering heat. noone was outside and i enjoyed it so
much, i don't know if its a european thing but i always have
to be outside. if anyone gives me the option of sitting
outside i always take it, even if there are rabid badgers
with guns patrolling the terrace. we sat there for a few
seconds when a huge looming shadow darkened me and my
santa-fe wrap.
"heysa, you gotsa pizza? i liksa pizza. pizza isa good,
i'da like a pizza, but i ain't got no money. you give me
money? i get me pizza too."
i looked up to see a black man with a huge stomach and a
torn short looming over me with a grin on his face that
suggested he was definetly missing more than his fair share
of attic insulation. he was the common beggar we had seen a
couple of times here and i immmediately realized why noone
sat outside.
now josh being a socialist you coudl tell that his hypocrisy
was reaching critical mass. i bit into my santa-fe wrap and
grinned at him, he was sweatin' nuts as he put down his pizza.
"i just, i just uh, used the last of my cash on this."
i could tell he was dying. and this was what i abhor about
people who flake on their grounds, they love to preach to
me. if i could enumerate the number of times i've spoken to
josh and he has detailed to me the selfish nature of
humanity and criticized all rich people for their inability
to judge human suffering, i would never be able to write of
anything else.
yet here he sat. pizza lying on his plate uttering some
selfish, sorry excuse as to why HE personally shouldn't do
anything. OTHER people should. and that is why these
ridiculous theories of the good will towards man fall apart.
these awesome lines of calligraphy upon parchment that
dictate some sort of grandiose society fall apart at the
pizza stained hands of the very people who write them.
enough was a enough.
"dude, we don't have any money." i looked the fat beggar in
the eyes. if there was one thing i knew from vienna it was
that beggars hated eye contact more than anything. he
glanced at me and quickly grinned at josh.
"you got a pizza man. i just wanta pizza man. just like you."
at this moment i was so pissed i wanted nothing more than to
kick this fat fuck's ass. when all of a sudden this
happened, which forever has changed my tunnel-vision.
"YO, LEAVE THEM ALONE. THEY TRYIN' TO EAT THEIR
MOTHER-FUCKIN' LUNCH MAN! YOU GET YOUR FAT ASS OUTTA HERE MAN."
the very large and muscular black thug with the huge shirt
and gold chains was standing at the entry way to the
pizzeria. his eyes glaring at the fat beggar. the other
two guys were right behind him with menacing glares directed
at the beggar.
the beggar grinned his retarded grin and said,
"okaysa, i's just wanta eat." and ambled off as quickly as
one could amble.
the three "thugs" went back in and continued their crazy
antics as they ate pizza and sipped sprite. i sat there
dumb-founded. if you could have named one event in my life
that would have caught me off-guard, it would have to be
three thugged out black guys standing up for two dorky white
suits. josh and i are the epitome of dorkiness.
our worlds shouldn't cross right? and i quickly thought of
jon-jon, whom dave and i had befriended while at college, a
thugged out drug-dealer who was the nicest person alive.
think to yourself nick. think. i can not hate people,
ever, possibly i am privileged enough to see the good side
of all? just the fact that some poeple like them would help
some people like us, has thrown my whole tunnel-vision into
a sad quaqmire of sad stereotypes.
i just know not what to think any longer.