Since they have a “Blackberry checkpoint” before entry, I wonder how many people get stripped of ownership of their cell phones @ the Oval Office?
When I went to the Wale thing the other weekend, I trooped solo, like I always do. LC seems to be in amazement that I generally go to every show by myself but the concept is simple. For one, there’s always somebody I know that’s going to be there since it’s not like Nashville’s true Hip-Hop community is a large, looming population. If there’s nobody I know there, fine as well. That means I’ll just go in, be a nondescript individual in the crowd & enjoy a live performance as if it were just me & the featured act. When it’s over, I don’t have to worry about finding those who rode with me (because I always drive, never ride unless it’s with Juan…because I know she won’t leave me).
But when I got to the door, the security guard told me “Yo, you gotta leave your hat. You can’t come inside with that.”
We squared off, exchanging deadpan stares for 10-15 seconds.
I was about to turn around and leave because I wasn’t in the cheeriest mood anyways, only going because I did want to see the show and felt obligated to attend since our name was on the flyer. No sooner than the Black Brutus Beefcake told me of the dress code, the main cat who pulled the event together came outside and told him who I was (*pops collar*). Thus, I was able to go inside with my fitted fully tilted.
But who the fuck leaves anything with security? As refined as I claim to be, I’m directly opposed to coat checks @ even the finest of establishments and I don’t even think of lettin’ anyone valet my vehicle. My luck, I’ll catch McGruff The Crime Dog’s number one helper, he’ll rifle through the truck and find my extra burner I keep stashed in the console. As soon as I come back to unknowingly give the little ninja a tip & secure my whip, I can hear the “yeerrrpppp” of the blues as they swerve down on me. I’m cool. I’ll park it myself.
I think it’s Casey’s fault. After being involuntarily forced to drop out of college (this was after him, Knuckles & Mack got shot up & Knuckles left paralyzed…but that’s another story), he used to valet @ some hotel in Atlanta. We went down one weekend to hang & stayed @ his pad while he worked. One night, dude came in & empty what had to be three pounds of coins onto the table, a five-stick back of Wrigley’s and six lighters onto the coffee table.
“Dog, where’d you get all that?”
“Aww man, when we park those cars we hittin’em up. I usually bring home about $50-75 per week in change alone.”
Fort Minor – The Rising Tied
Nas & Ill Will Record Presents Queensbridge’s Finest