MySpace blog repost alert!
This is a short one, which bothers me because it's a great story and I'd like to give it due respect. But laziness comes into play.This still stands as the last time I ever got arrested after several unfortunate run-ins with the law from 2003-2005.
We begin at the first ever hip hop show at the brand-spanking-new Nokia Theatre in Times Square. This place is super-corporate (there are cell phones and other electronics on display in the lobby), but it's immaculate: great acoustics, beautiful decor complete with color-changing lights in the hallways and, though it was pretty much packed to capacity, it never felt crowded.
As for the music, it was a who's who of hip hopper's hip hoppers headlined by the man in the mask himself, MF DOOM, although old-schooler Big Daddy Kane stole the show. Other scheduled acts included Little Brother, Pete Rock, Spec Boogie, Lord Sear. Unannounced guests were practically a show themselves: Jin (tha Chinese MC), Joe Scudda, Boot Camp Clik, Raheem and Melle Mel (original Furious Five members performing their classic "The Message"), and last but not least, for the encore, Talib Kweli (who had been up in the VIP lounge smoking blunts mere feet from me until that point). All in all an amazing show, compounded by the fact that I got a free pass with VIP access thanks to LifeBeat.
Unfortunately the story does not end there.
It all started when I was at the LifeBeat table and the hottest girl in attendance walked in. I'm talking jaw-droppingly gorgeous. And her pleated denim mini skirt showing off her beautiful legs did not hurt at all. I saw her with some guy that I assumed to be her boyfriend so I didn't pursue her (not that I would've anyways).
So I see this same girl up in VIP, sans boyfriend, looking dead sexy and kind of lonely. I start to think that maybe I should go talk to her, but I just exchanged glances until she finally walked away. At this point I'm pretty much kicking myself for being so shy.
Now the whole show I'd been rolling cigarettes and spliffs (weed/tobacco mix for you straight-edgers out there) and I had half of one of each of those in my Drum tobacco pouch.
Cut to outside the Nokia Theatre right after the show. I'm ready to go home pretty much, but I have this crazy idea in my head that I can somehow find this girl amidst the sea of humanity. Just my luck, she was right outside smoking a cigarette. I pulled what I assumed to be a half-smoked cigarette out of my pouch and walked over to ask for a light. Surprise, surprise! The lovely young lady who had intimidated me all night long was an enthralling conversationalist. Her name is Emily. She goes to F.I.T. and I'm pretty sure she said she lives right near me in Queens. If anyone knows this girl, send her my way.
The reason I don't have her number is because, after a minute of talking to her, I was surrounded by about ten of NYPD's finest (OXYMORON ALERT!!!). You guessed it. I was smoking a spliff in the busiest sector of the busiest city in the fucking world which thanks to Giuliani (Rudy G. for President 2008!), is swarming with those beloved boys in blue 24/7. Needless to say, especially if you know me, I was cuffed and taken into custody by some decidedly inept Keystoners.
Now if you do know me, you know that I am not one to show any type of courtesy to arresting officers, of which there have been more than a few. I'm sarcastic and indignant, normally anyways.
For some reason, I was uncharacteristically calm and civil to all 37 (I think) arresting officers plus the ones I met down at the Midtown South Precinct. And wouldn't you know it paid off?
I was thinking that I'd finally be headed to the legendary Central Booking (I later found out that they never send you there for an Unlawful Marijuana Possession, even though all the cops told me I was headed there), and I was sort of looking forward to it after an hour and change in a holding cell. But after no more than two hours I was released with a summons and several officers thanked me for my courtesy.
I would pause here to reflect on my previous experiences with the injustice system of this fine country, but that's practically a fucking novel there.
This was the least amount of time I've ever spent in a holding cell out of the four times I can recall offhand. Every previous time I thought I could argue my way out of the situation (you never can) or at least make their lives a little less bearable by being a total prick (they like that because then they can reciprocate and that's why they became cops in the first place). I feel like a jack-ass for not realizing any of this shit earlier, because it seems so obvious to me now and I could've saved myself a lot of grief.
So niceness is as niceness does. As obvious as that sounds, it took me 23 years to apply it to piggies. And I still feel as though I beat the system in some way by not giving the cops the opportunity to be total dicks to some stoner kid, which I could tell they were all itching to do. And maybe, just maybe, they realized that at least one pothead is a decent, intelligible dude and not a common criminal.
Score one for the longhairs!!!
OK, that turned out to be a lot longer than I thought it would be, but I'm glad because that's been sitting in my brain for a minute.
QUOTES OF THE NIGHT
"I guess those hip-hop guys are drawing a more diverse audience these days."
-unknown and borderline racist policeman after hearing what kind of event was going on at Nokia Theatre
"The traditional thing to do is a moment of silence, right?.....Fuck that! This is hip hop."
-Big Daddy Kane after rattling off an Oscaresque list of every celebrity (Richard Pryor, Luther Vandross, etc.) and hip hop cat (Big L, Jam Master Jay, etc.) who has died in the past 15 years or so and then calling for a "moment of noise"
OTHER RANDOM SHIT
A few minutes before I exited the Nokia Theatre, I ran into a cracked-out looking Dan Tamberelli (see blog entry #1) who did not remember me at all.
Melle Mel is one of the most diesel dudes I have ever seen, straight up. He could totally kick Fitty's bullet-riddled ass.
Until next time...