7 Days In Savannah: Bolo

It was a hot summer day in Savannah. The type where all you wanna do is take 3 or 4 showers and drink a slushy. The kind of day when tensions rise along with the mercury, and you never know who will be the next victim. The kind of day that puts the temper in temperature. I could have very well become the next statistic on the crime sheets that day. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning.

My homeboy Tori was working at the Golden Corral at the Oglethorpe Mall, and, I decided to go get the hook up and hang out with him. I generally avoid buffets at all costs, but being that I was cheap and a poor college student, I bit the bullet and chowed down. I have to admit, it was pretty good, especially for the price (free). Anyway, by the time I finished eating, Tori was getting off work, and I was gonna drop him off at home to change and then hit up Frozen Paradise later that night. As we were leaving, this guy he knew came up to us...

"Hey, can you drop me in Cloverdale?"

Cloverdale was nowhere near where we were going. We were Southside boys, and Cloverdale was completely in the other direction. But before I could say no, Tori interjected.

"Yeah, we got you!"

I was mildly annoyed, but honestly I didn't really care. Even back then I was always down to drive around aimlessly. Plus gas was like .89 cents, so it was really no big deal. I just didn't like being around people I didn't know. Only, I did kinda know this guy.

"Rashan, you remember Bolo, right?"

I did remember him. From summer school in the 10th grade. I somehow managed to fail Advanced English (probably because I never did any homework) and had to go to Beach High School for six weeks that summer. He was in my English class. That joint was mad remedial, but that was my punishment for slacking off all semester. I had to suffer dummies who couldn't put together a sentence to save their lives. I passed the time by writing rhymes and by the end of summer school, I had enough material to put out two or three albums. One of the few bright spots was meeting up with kids from other schools and utterly destroying them in a freestyle rap battle. I was the reigning freestyle champ of summer school. One day, me and Bolo met up. I still remember the wack rhyme he tried to get me with...

"I rap better than one, I rap better than all/I even rap better than aluminum foil..."

For real? That's what you thought was a hot line? I murdered him with the rhymes. It's funny that I can't remember what I said, but I will never forget his line. When it was over, he sulked and glanced menacingly towards me the rest of the summer.

"Yeah, I remember him.. What's up my man?"

"Chillin'. Thanks for the ride."

During the car ride home, Bolo was talking incessantly. He still had dreams of being a rapper, which I had long since abandoned in favor of a college education. He told us about his record deal with a local Savannah record label. That was funny to me, since he supposedly got a phat advance, but was working at Golden Corral and bumming rides from my broke tail. Then the talk turned to the streets. Thug this, gangster that, hoe this, b*tch that... I was done. I decided to call him on his crap...

"Son, you ain't no gangsta! Chill wit all that"

"Oh I'm not? Then what you think this is for?"

I looked back and he was holding a .38. My face immediately dropped. It didn't occur to me that he might shoot me with it. I was just thinking, what if the police see him?

"I'm a thug, my nigga! I shoot lames for fun."

Tori busted out laughing, while I wasn't quite in on the joke. Bolo continued...

"I'll shoot the next nigga that pulls up to the side of us. I don't give a f*ck. I'm crazy!!!"

"I believe you man. I was just messing with you. Go on and put that gat up."

"I'm saying.. you can't be calling me out. You wanna see what I'll do?"

"Nah, man I'm good. Now how bout you just put that up before five-0 sees you."

"Man, F*CK THE POLICE!! I'll blast them too. You Southside clowns don't know nothing about a thug."

"You right, man! My bad for doubting you..."

"You could be next. That's all I'm saying..."

I turned the music up louder and said just about nothing else for the rest of the ride. Tori was still laughing and Bolo was rapping along to whatever I was playing on the CD player. I glanced in the rear view occasionally to make sure I wasn't about to get shot, and finally arrived in Cloverdale. As he got out the car, Bolo says...

"Thanks for the ride man! Lemme give you a couple dollars for gas."

Huh? Did this dude that just threatened to shoot me just offer me gas money?

"Nah, Don't worry about it. Peace."

"Peace, my nigga!"

Tori and I rolled out back to the Southside.

"Yo, what is up with your boy?" I asked.

"I forgot to tell you, he's a little loco."

"A little? Did you see how he just flipped out on me? Is he bi polar or something?"

"I don't know. He's just a little unstable."

"For real, I'm not f*ckin' with no more of your people...ever!"

If only that was true. I wound up hanging out with all kinds of weirdos, psychos and derelicts in the coming years. And because you guys always ask me what happened to the people I write about. Last I heard, (which is over 10 years ago) Bolo caught an armed robbery case and got 8-10 years. I never did hear anything from his alleged record deal.

We Interrupt Our Regularly Scheduled Program

I know I'm supposed to be posting the next part of the Illmatic series, but I have to postpone that to talk about some ill shit that happened last night. A cab driver was murdered in my apartment complex last night, and I may have seen it if I didn't stay at work running my mouth. I was coming home from work and after making a couple of stops, I rolled into the parking lot. I saw a taxi mini-van posted up against the gate separating my complex from the adjoining one. There was another car in the middle of the road, partially blocking the way. I maneuvered around them and went to my crib not giving it a second thought. The time was 2:05.

Around 4, I turned on the computer to tweak my next post and check my email. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw some blue lights flashing through the living room window. I peeked out said window and saw a cop car. Again, I didn't give too much thought to it. I assumed someone just was getting a ticket or perhaps there was a domestic dispute. Next thing I know, I see red lights from an ambulance and yellow lights from a tow truck. I decided that I would get my Scooby gang on and go outside and investigate.

I ventured out in the 30 degree weather and walked around the corner and what I saw shocked me. A parade of DeKalb County police cars with flashing lights surrounded the area where the taxi was idling earlier. Yellow crime scene tape cordoned off the area. I got closer, but not so close that I would draw attention to myself. The final straw was when I saw the Medical Examiners Van pull up and remove something (I think it was the body) from the van. Shit, the cab driver was dead.

I walked closer and asked an officer what happened. He told me that there was a murder and asked if I heard anything. I told him I didn't, but I did see the taxi crashed against the gate when I got home. I told him about the car I saw in the middle of the road. Turns out they called 911 and got the cops there. He took down my information and I went stood outside a little longer as they put the taxi on a flatbed tow truck, covered it in a tarp that said "Medical Examiner's Office", and drove away. By this time the news crews were already on the scene, so I decided to go inside and find out more.

Damn, I need to move away from here. In the year since I moved to this side of town, I have driven by a murder victim, saw a shooting at the gas station outside my complex, heard about a shooting at the Waffle House next to the same gas station and saw a fire right across the gate from my building. I think its time to abandon this cheap(er) rent experiment and go find me a nice crib by some white people again. It's messed up that it has to be that way, but like I am prone to say...it is what it is.

Anyway, here is a link to the news story. I'll holla later. Gotta hit up Craig's List for a new place to live.

We now take you back to our regularly scheduled program, already in progress...

Anatomy of a Shooting

I saw it happening. I was minding my own business just trying to get a Sprite. Yes, it was 4 in the morning, but whatever I'm grown. I can go out in the middle of the night if I want. He was blocking the doorway outside the gas station as I was going in. He had that familiar "you niggaz betta not fuck with me look." I did my best to abide by his wishes as I said "excuse me" and stepped in the store. My Spidey sense was tingling something serious. Something told me it was about to go down and to get the hell out of there expeditiously. I dropped my $1.19 and headed for the door. That's when I saw it.

He had fire red eyes... the by product of too much weed or perhaps too much Patron, since we were right across the street from the strip club. Maybe some dancer took advantage of his inebriated state and got an extra $20 out of him. Maybe some cat tried to play him in the club. I don't know what the story was, but the eyes are what told me there was about to be trouble. He had that hardcore thug, about to cry look, but as we all know, thugs don't cry. Thugs handle business. And in this case, I saw the business he was about to handle. His right hand kept fidgeting with something in his pocket. I'm no gun expert, but I saw the handle. It was a .22.

Shit, I thought to myself. What can I do now? Do I hang out in the store and wait for the shit to go down, or do I make a dash to the car and peel out. I didn't want to make him any more nervous than he already was. I saw him talking to himself, although I couldn't tell if he was trying to talk himself into something or talk himself out of something. I hung back for a minute, in full observation mode. This brother kind of looked like me. I mean, he wasn't nearly as handsome as I, (kidding) but he had the look of a brother who could amount to something. He wasn't the stereotypical, white tee and saggy jeans thug that White people would avoid on the street. He looked like a urban professional in casual mode. His gear was kind of fresh, a brown and white Roc a Wear shirt with some nice slacks, and timberland type sneakers. He had on a chain with a platinum cross, although for all I know it could have been fake. But my point was, he didn't have the scary Black man look, except for those red eyes and that furrowed brow. His eyes were threatening like Ice Cube circa 1991, in 2007 Atlanta.

I browsed the store as much as I could with out looking wicked obvious, but how many times can I pass the oatmeal cream pies and nudie magazines before the Pakistani behind the bulletproof glass got suspicious? I had to take my chances. I put my keys in my left hand, cradling the Sprite in my right and walked directly to the whip without making eye contact. It seemed the hard soles of my shoes (I still had on my work clothes, although untucked and tie loosened) clicked with fiery intensity until I made it to the ride. I started it up and put in reverse when I heard a booming voice.

"Nigga, what the fuck do you think you doing?"

Oh, shit! Is he talking to me? I don't have nothing to do with it. Let me ride out in peace. I looked up and he was glaring in my direction, with that fire in his eyes. I was shook to say the least. I saw him reach in the pocket again, and thinking he was going for his piece, my fight or flight response took over. I chose flight, but my mind kept it cool for a minute.

"What's up, pimpin!?" I quizzically responded.

"Nah, not you homey! I was talking to that nigga" he said, pointing with his left hand, his right still in his over sized pocket.

"Aiight" I said relieved and backed up.

I threw the clutch in drive and sped out of there. By the time I got to the exit of the parking lot, I heard him arguing with the other dude that I was afraid to turn around and look at. I heard "bitch azz nigga", and "pussy muhfucka" and realized the shit was about to go down. There are just some things you don't say to a man without it getting violent and that had crossed the line. I didn't want to waste anymore time in this life threatening situation. It would be just my luck to get caught by a stray. I hit the street and heard three pops. One of them had let the guns fly, just seconds after I got out of harms way. Instead of just going across the street to my crib, I drove around way out of my way for about 15 minutes just to be clear of the situation. When I returned home, I saw the police blue lights, but no red ambulance lights at the gas station. I guess my man had bad aim and missed. I'm just glad I got the hell out of there before it went down. Needless to say, I won't be sleeping tonight.