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I just dodged a punch from the big Dominican in front of me and I am bit proud!
Hey, I thought to myself. Slick move. Straight out of the movies!
Then I realized that I was horrible at fighting back. I was afraid to punch. The guy caught his foot on the gummy steel footing of a cocktail table and my clear shot became this wet, noddley slap. My fingers unfurled as I got closer to his gut. Hey I might hurt my hand!
"Hace cosquillas, mi amor," said the Dominican. I think he is Dominican. He has DR flag necklace on his chest, right below the clavicle. The flag is made of hair beads, like the ones you see on the tiny dreadlocks girls have coming back from Negril for Spring break. I never had time to ask him when he first cocked me in the ear. I smelled the rum on his breath, but now my nose is all soggy from his first knee.
I had never been in a fight. A real one, at least. In the eight grade, I got so mad at Freddy Combato that I shoved him into a wall and then tried to pull this wrestling move on him that I had seen on TV. We really just pushed each other around.
At the bar (Sojourners) the people start to pour out of it and into B Terminal. One woman knocks over a display case at the SunGlass Hut across the way. I thought I heard a police siren or an alarm. I really wanted the police to come.
Hay, un problema maricon! It has been years since I have spoken Spanish so heatedly or in any sort of defensive tone. The weekly phone calls with my mother are full of false plesantries and whenever I see my nieces, I just back up my sister and tell them put whatever they have gotten their hands on down.
Calmate. Calmate," I tell the guy. My Spanish must sound even worse through the chipped teeth. A pair of white shirted police offers blasts into the bar and tackle the supposed Dominican. I scoot back on my ass and hide underneath the bar until another office grabs me by the armpits and lifts me up onto his shoulder. "Hey it is over, son," he said.
Hey, I thought to myself. Slick move. Straight out of the movies!
Then I realized that I was horrible at fighting back. I was afraid to punch. The guy caught his foot on the gummy steel footing of a cocktail table and my clear shot became this wet, noddley slap. My fingers unfurled as I got closer to his gut. Hey I might hurt my hand!
"Hace cosquillas, mi amor," said the Dominican. I think he is Dominican. He has DR flag necklace on his chest, right below the clavicle. The flag is made of hair beads, like the ones you see on the tiny dreadlocks girls have coming back from Negril for Spring break. I never had time to ask him when he first cocked me in the ear. I smelled the rum on his breath, but now my nose is all soggy from his first knee.
I had never been in a fight. A real one, at least. In the eight grade, I got so mad at Freddy Combato that I shoved him into a wall and then tried to pull this wrestling move on him that I had seen on TV. We really just pushed each other around.
At the bar (Sojourners) the people start to pour out of it and into B Terminal. One woman knocks over a display case at the SunGlass Hut across the way. I thought I heard a police siren or an alarm. I really wanted the police to come.
Hay, un problema maricon! It has been years since I have spoken Spanish so heatedly or in any sort of defensive tone. The weekly phone calls with my mother are full of false plesantries and whenever I see my nieces, I just back up my sister and tell them put whatever they have gotten their hands on down.
Calmate. Calmate," I tell the guy. My Spanish must sound even worse through the chipped teeth. A pair of white shirted police offers blasts into the bar and tackle the supposed Dominican. I scoot back on my ass and hide underneath the bar until another office grabs me by the armpits and lifts me up onto his shoulder. "Hey it is over, son," he said.
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What a horrible piece! I realized after the first two sentences there was nowhere to go with this and just left it to die. Peace!
What a horrible piece! I realized after the first two sentences there was nowhere to go with this and just left it to die. Peace!
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