Let me tell you, you never really fully appreciate home until you venture out and see other places. Right when you think that your town is the most bullshit area this side of the equator, you find out that there are indeed places that are even wacker than the place you call home. So yes, my disappearance from the blogisphere over the past few days can be explained by a bit of out of town band business, and a woman who I see being my wife one day, with a smile that could light up a stadium. In no way am I dissiing Alexandria, or the DC area, just my specific experiences that happened there.(Contrary to popular belief, I didn't celebrate when Cam'ron got shot while I was in the area, and I wasnt the shooter. What kind of guy do you take me for??)I know that this piece is titled "Road Trip", and anyone who knows the distance from Virginia Beach Virginia to Alexandria Virginia would probably laugh at me like the first woman I had sex with did, but 200 miles is 200 miles motherfucker! Here are a few things that I encountered from October 22st to the 25th.
Rental Cars Rock!: Rental car, how do I love thee, let me count the motherfucking ways. Ever since I was a younger adult I treated rental cars as my personal stunt-mobile, doing things that I wouldn't dream of in my own car. When I rented a car this time, I thought that my maturity and my different perception of responsibility would change and I would handle this 4-wheeled monstrosity with care, but I didn't. The first thing I did was drive this rental through a dirt field, trying to catch air on a dirt hill like I was a black version of the Dukes of Hazzard and shit.(minus the confederate flag, and the incest theme between the Duke Boys and Daisy) Then on my way to the destination a guy cut me off and I gave him the finger, which prompted me to get out of my car and talk shit. When he threatened to hit my car, I told him to go ahead, but the consequences would be "side swiping" his Lexus at 100 miles per hour, something I wouldn't say if I was driving my car. Also, the mere fact that I was going 120 miles per hour in pouring rain on the way home shows that my maturity level hasn't progressed in the past few years, but doing 360 degree spins on a empy highway was sure fun though.
I need to be bilingual: Even though I took three years of Spanish, I couldn't construct a sentence if someone held a shotgun to my head while threatening to sing a Reaggaeton song. I mean, I could count to one hundred, and tell you that "Lupita is going to the library" in Spanish, but I don't see that getting me laid in a Spanish speaking country any time soon. I might as well think that being "bi-lingual" means having a three way with 2 chicks of different nationalities, the way that I am horrible at it. I had went to this Mexican bar a few blocks from my hotel, where the bartenders spoke little to no English, so ordering drinks came down to me pointing at bottles on the wall. They were nice and patient, but I just flashed back to me sleeping in Spanish class in High School and how I wish I had paid attention and stopped looking at Ms. Gonzalez' tits. The sad thing is that there were a group of Mexican women who were pointing at me, smiling, giving me that "come hither" look, whispering to each other. They were either saying, "That's the HumanityCritic, the "black blogger of the year", I sure would want to find out about his pre-ejaculating love making style!!" Or "Look at that chubby blogging bastard, I bet you money that that no Spanish speaking motherfucker is hung like a toddler." I kind of think that it was the last one. I could have dazzled them with what I did know, but being told that their "vagina smells like road kill" in Spanish would have probably gotten me stabbed.
Don't be a tough guy away from home: I know that statistically I can get my ass beaten, I have gotten beaten up before, but the fact that I think that I can whip anyone on the planet might get me killed one day. That, and plus the fact that I am kind of on a streak of throat-chopping pathetic bastards without a worthy adversarial response has gotten my head a bit inflated to tell the truth. So anyway, I went to that same bar that I mentioned in the last paragraph and this dude was looking at me like he either had a problem with me, or I had stolen his fruity pebbles and shit. I was patient, minded my business, but after a half hour of him staring at me like I was lunch I had to say something. I looked at him and said, "What the fuck are YOU staring at??" Again, not knowing Spanish he said something that I couldn't make out, like "What jackass,lets go!!" or "I don't have a problem with you!!" or "Your blog sucks, so does your band you ass-hat!!", who knows?? I brushed off his words, gave him the finger, and gave him the universal sign for "We can handle it outside if you want" as I left. He didn't follow, so I just chalked it up as another pussy who didn't want to get throat-chopped that night. Anyway, the next day I learn from my home-girl who lives out there that a El Salvadorian gang called MS-13(I think) frequents that bar, and apparently they are known for chopping peoples hands off and shit. Yeah, I really need to calm my ass down sometimes because even though I type with one hand anyway, not having both of them would probably suck. But then again, I just hope they don't take the right one, I need that one to masturbate.
Hotel, Motel, Not the Holiday Inn: Am I the only one that gets a hotel room and automatically envisions having freaky sex involving a handful of women, bondage, and a confidentiality agreement? Well, I do, but usually it ends with me watching SportsCenter or trying to figure out if the hotel porn is actually porn, or the Cinemax "dry humping" variety. Hotels are also misleading, because some do offer "real Breakfast"(i.e eggs, bacon, hash browns, etc.) but most of the time their breakfast includes a dry ass muffin, and some coffee that tastes like it was brewed with authentic horse piss. Also, the "cleaning staff" weirds me out because for one thing they kept knocking on my door every five minutes even though I had a "housekeeping Beat it" sign taped to the door, but also because when you are away you come back and your room is spotless. Which is cool of them to do, but what if you had a dead hooker in the shower, or a key of coke that you forgot to clean up?? That would suck.
That Someone special: You know, being single sucks, and for anyone who says they "love being single" I give you a huge middle finger while grabbing my testicles in my best B-Boy stance. But for a lot of people, myself included, being single tends to be an act of cowardice because being in love is the biggest gamble that one can partake in. Throwing the dice, in this case your heart on the table hoping for that big payoff is pretty ballsy, so I respect those who do it, sincerely. In a word, I'm scared, because even though I fear no man and have actually stared death in the face and tried my hardest not to flinch, I know how getting your heart broken feels and that's a pain I don't wish on my worst enemy. But, I have encountered someone who is indeed worth that gamble, truly a diamond in the ruff so to speak. While on my road trip I had a chance to hang out with her and she is engaging, intelligent, a soothing nature to calm my restless soul, and a smile that literally sends chills down my spine. But while we were hanging, something crept up on me that I didn't expect, insecurity. Like "I'm not good enough for her", "I bet she doesn't feel me at all", "She probably thinks I am the biggest fucking douche-bag", suddenly I am 15 years old scared to hear the answer from a "I Like You" note that I had sent. I suddenly feel myself pulling my chips in, refusing to bet again, because I know what it feels like to lose everything. I keep hearing the Q-Tip lyrics in my head "Scared money don't make none!", but I still feel myself walking away from the table and getting a drink at the bar.