December 28, 2007

• Getting my blackness up

  “My cousin and I have a black-joke thing because of this.  That’s another story.”

  This is the “other story” that I owe you, which happened around 2006.  Actually, it started back in December of 2004, where most people had gone home for block leave during the holidays.  I stayed in Italy, since I had just gotten there and had no leave left.  Leaving the company area one day, I a soldier in my company saw me and asked “Sir, do you know how to break into a car?”

  I was somewhat shocked.  Why would he, out of the blue, ask me this question.  Was it because I was from NYC, where we steal cars all day.  Maybe it was because I was black, and this was some mutant power, like Wolverine’s healing ability.  I do wonder if he asked everyone that had passed.  As appalled as I could have been, I did know how to break into cars, but only because, months earlier, I had locked myself out of my car and had to call a locksmith.  I won’t describe the procedure, but it is a simple procedure.  I would actually go on to use it twice in Afghanistan. 

  Skip ahead to 2006, and I am in the car with my cousin, and his fiancé (now his wife), driving up to visit my aunt (his mom).  Now, he works for the Department of Corrections, and is a guard at Riker’s Island, just so you don’t get the wrong idea about him.  Along the way, I tell him the story, and he makes this suggestion:

  “You should have told him that you needed a wire hanger, a bucket of fried chicken, a piece of watermelon, and a black glove.  The you should have eaten the chicken and the watermelon, put the glove on, wrapped the hanger around your hand, and punched in the window.  Then, when he asked why you needed the the chicken and the watermelon, you should have said, ‘I needed to get my blackness up.’”

  We laughed for the next hour or so, just at this.  Much of the laughter was caused without saying another word.  In fact, at one point, we stopped for gas, and while we were standing outside of the car, we happened to look at the driver’s window, and started laughing again.  His wife-to-be (also black) did not understand how we derived do much humor from this statement.  She just did not see how it was funny.

  Maybe she needed some fried chicken.

  Black 6, out.

  • 7:55 am
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