Of sleeping cats and racists….

I moved last week, didn’t you hear? Oh no? Well, I’m not surprised. I wasn’t announcing it on the Internet or anything. It just kinda happened and I went through the mundane paces of it all. I hate moving to death and want it to die, but I did my best to try and persevere throughout the ordeal, and slowly buy surely, life is starting to make sense again.
The new house is wonderful. The neighborhood and town, which I’ve just started to explore, is rich and vibrant and new and extensive (and really close to NYC). So things are shaping up. I wasn’t happy in my former location, and I despised getting from the one place to the next, but it’s looking very worthwhile as of right now. All was not normal though over the course of the week (as if it ever is….)
To begin with, while getting one of the final loads of crap out of the old house, I left my car door open. Unbeknownst to me, a cat that lives in the backyard wandered into the back seat of my car and fell asleep. He remained in slumberland as I loaded the last remains from the old house into the car and drove off. I was to go meet my father for dinner at 7, was actually on time as well, when the cat awoke from his nap 10 miles from the old house right down the street from my father’s house. He let out a loud, bewildered meow and looked at me with a puzzled look, wondering what the hell he had just gotten himself into. I calmed him and turned the car around and navigated my way through rush hour to return my cat friend to the backyard from which he had come. I returned him home and beckoned him out of the car. He stepped cautiously down, looked around, recognized his surroundings and took off wandering in his environment. I was late for dinner with a bizarre excuse.
The next day, myself and my friends went to the local concrete skatepark. An oafey rollerblader was sitting on the back of the quarterpipe we always ride, which kinda hindered our riding. M friend Pat (who’s an African American) asked him to move, which he redundantly did. A few moments later, the rollerblader told his skater friend, “I love black people. I think every white family should get to own one.” Pat heard this and kinda understandably freaked out. He approached the kid, started poking him in the face and pulled him down to the ground. Luckily, no real punches were thrown, but it was enough of a rumble that I knew that the cops would be there pretty fast, so I tried to get Pat and myself out of there as fast as possible. Too late though. We were surrounded by about 4 police cars as I put my keys in the ignition of my car. The first officer asked me for my license, registration and insurance (for a skatepark incident on my bike), grabbed them out of my hand and said, “How’s it feel to be banned from the skatepark?” I almost laughed out loud, then almost said, “It’s a blessing in disguise. I hate this place,” but ultimately just nodded and tried not to say anything that could be taken as offensive. The cops ran both of our records, found nothing on either of us and ultimately let us go. The one officer told Pat, “You should’ve beat the shit out of that kid,” but we all know how that goes. Cause if Pat actually did do that, that officer would be the first one on the scene saying, “Oh, you like beating up underage kids punk?” The police let us go but banned us from the skatepark. I didn’t wanna go back anyway after that. The kid that made the very ignorant racist statement was allowed to stay. Was justice served? Hell no. Did I mention that Pat was wearing a martial arts sparring helmet that I had in my trunk when it all went down? Hell yeah! That made the whole ordeal worth it……

So what did I learn this week? I still hate moving, my car is a comfort zone for cats, and don’t ever say any racist shit to anyone wearing a sparring helmet…..

Soundtrack to another bizarre week:
1. The National
2. Boom Bip
3. The Go! Team
4. The Headlights
5. Rahway Train Station (not music, just a very awesome place to ride my bike)

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