Monday, April 09, 2007

Black in Minnesota

I know it has been a while since I have written a blog. My fans and critics have been waiting for something, anything from me. After a modern classic like ManSomeTimeDay I am feeling the pressure and unfortunately this is not my day job, nor my night job, hell I don't get paid anything for this. But my real job tends to send me to very interesting places, places that don't have that many people that look like me in it. You know devilishly handsome dressed to kill black men. Places like Crane Indiana, (Home of the world's longest yellow lights, I mean damn, it is as long as the green in some cases) or Eagan Minnesota home of nipple cracking cold and about 3 blacks. Being that I am an enterprising young man please believe I took advantage of this. I might have gone to a restaurant and when the matre d asked was I a Minnesota Viking I might have taken all of the free drinks, steaks, signed a few autographs and kissed a few babies. A middleaged grandmother may have shown me her Viking Tattoo and I may have had dry heaves but I figure to make the people happy it is just something I had to do. It's all about the fans.
But back to my day at the Eagan office. As a side note most of the black people in minnesota play professional ball, chances are, I will be the only brother in the office there. Yup. And the 3 other blacks, wait I think they were African Americans, it's hard to tell, the other 3 looked at me like I was their cousin, we all hugged and sung We Shall Overcome, discussed our escape plans and went on about our day. So I am working after giving the presentation of my life and getting corporate backing for my product. I was clean as the board of health and what happens, around lunch time the one attractive Minnesotian Sister (Yes there was only one, the rest were really nice people) decides she wants to introduce herself. Being a happily married man and having not evolved the ability to regenerate flesh I immediately . . . RAN LIKE HELL. I mean I ran like she had on a white cape with a red cross on it, like Richard Pryor on fire, like Bobby Brown at the child support office, like Michael Vick during a herpes breakout. I was gone. I gave her every bit of my 4.9, 40 speed. Meanwhile she is WALKING next to me like, Can I show you the town?, Where are you staying?, Have you had lunch yet?, Would you like a home cooked meal? It was like a 1970s Blacksploitation horror movie, "Negrotia" the story of a professional black woman that at the sight of an attractive well dressed brother turns in to a diamond hungry, engagement seeking, penis vampire.
Finally, I escaped in the warmth of the men's bathroom I collected my thoughts called my Pastor and did what any strong black brother from the hood does in a crisis, I pulled the fire alarm, walked calmly out of the building and went on back to my hotel suite calling my wife on the way. Momma aint raise no punk.

1 comment:

Daneger said...