At around 5pm on Friday, I felt fatigued. It wasn’t the normal “I had a really long week” fatigue. Okay. It was some of that too, but this was more significant. It was a familiar fatigue that pops up at the most inconvenient times and signals that my body is about to get angry at me. Lack of appetite accompanied it so I knew trouble was on the horizon. I couldn’t predict the amount of trouble that it’d become. But for that night, I was wise and decided to stay in and rest. And when I woke up on Saturday, it felt like the Mucinex monsters had invaded my sinus cavity and chest. The pressure was annoying and the incessant cough gave me an ab workout that was much more destructive than productive.
F*ck. Another long weekend that I’m gonna be walking around sick.
I took some cough medicine, which did nothing. Then I took some allergy medicine that dried up some of my trouble, but didn’t do much to get me off the couch. I watched the day go by until about 630pm. There was a bbq in Brooklyn I wanted to get to and I wasn’t gonna let the sniffles stop me from being great even though I felt mediocre at best. So I got dressed and went out to my car to find a parking ticket that I don’t have the energy to fight. I crumbled in and tossed it to the passenger side of my car then got on my way. That orange envelope was a warning sign.
I’ll spare you all the details of the bbq and give you a more condensed version. It was what bbqs are. People ate, drank, and talked. My sickness was the designated driver, so I was cautious with the consumption. I tried to get beer out of a keg and it kept kicking out foam. All that pumping for such little production. It was like the third nut…except I’m talking about a beer keg. Anyways, this should’ve been another sign. I found myself in position of a mixed drink that soothed the cough and allowed me to talk more than 3 sentences at a time without speaking in wheeze. Once I chatted it up a bit and finished my drink, I bounced.
My boys were at some house party and figured I’d stop through. It was only around midnight and it’s kinda f*cked up to be in the same part of town as people I don’t see all the time and not swing through to say hello. So I got the address and plugged it into my phone. The directions got a little wacky so I made an erroneous right turn onto a road that was blocked. And before I could reverse, I saw flashing red lights pull up behind me. DWI or DUI wasn’t a concern, so I was prepared to talk to the cop and explain that my gps had just confused me. I roll down the window and had my license and registration ready.
Officer: You been drinking? Did you not see the sign?
Me: Huh? I had a drink tonight, but I’m not intoxicated. My phone’s gps just led me the wrong way. You can look.
Officer: I smell alcohol. Can you step out of the car.
Me to self: I can’t believe this shit right now. This is the last thing I need to be dealing with.
Me to cop: No problem.
I get out. I extend my arms and pick my right foot up off the ground. My left leg trembled a bit out of nervousness. After all, cars were going by and there I am looking like the drunk guy bout to get collared at a very sober moment. It was expected and he knew it. So then I walked a straight line. I answered some quick recall questions. He scorned me about paying attention and let me go. I back up and go the other direction, but not before pulling off to the side to straighten out my gps.
There were a couple cars in front of me side by side idling. I thought nothing of it. Once I had directions, I pulled off just a few seconds after they did. They slowed up alongside me and asked if I was following them. I said no and that I was messing with my gps. They told me to go ahead. I went. The directions didn’t match the streets so I pulled over again. The 2 dudes (Black unfortunately) in the car slowed up again. I went ahead of them and then they pulled up alongside me and that’s when things went really left.
Dude in passenger seat: Yo nigga. Why are you following us?
Me: Huh? I don’t even know yall. I’m really trying to get to a party right now.
Dude: Nigga, we got your license plate. If we ever see you again, you’re gone. **brandishes gun then pulls off**
I went home. That was the last warning sign that I needed that the night was not meant to be. And oddly enough, I didn’t need my gps to find my way back to Harlem. I ended up in bed until about 7pm on Sunday still feeling sick. Monday wasn’t much better, though I did make it out to buy a suitcase, see some friends, and eat some bbq. Now I just need to get healthy and stay out of trouble. Not trying to catch a case or bullet before I hop on this plane to Cali. Even though I’m laying down writing this, things are still looking up.
I shouldn’t have went out, but that food was good even though the gun wasn’t,