I Am Robbed By A Black Girl On A Bike
There is a young black lady who rides, or more often pushes, a bike around the Quarter.
She has sold me clothes before. She sold me jeans once; for 4 dollars; and then not long after that, had a pair of brand new Wrangler jeans in my exact size (of 31X32) with the price tag still on them.
She only had wanted 4 dollars for each pair.
Tuesday morning, I woke up with 31 dollars on me.
I had had 51 dollars Monday morning, and could not recall where I had spent the money that day, except for 10 dollars on a USB cable which I found didn't fit my MP3 player.
Some other musician (I guess) whom I had never seen before asked me if I had an extra low "e" string when I was walking Bourbon Street after not having made much money that night; he said "I'll give you 20 dollars for it.
That was the only string which I had an extra of on me, as a matter of fact. It seemed fated.
I sold it for 20 dollars, reminding myself that I had paid $2.17 for the thing and was only profiting $17.83 on the deal, and to not go hog-wild in spending the money on an expensive beer or anything.
Tuesday morning, the same girl was by her bike (which I recognized more than I did her face, because I am terrible with faces) in front of The Unique Grocery Store.
"Didn't I buy clothes off of you once?" I asked.
I wasn't sure that it was her because her countenance was distorted by a scowl on her face.
She said "Yeah, why, what's up?"
Well, I had 31 dollars, and maybe she could smell it on me, because she immediately asked me what size shoe I wore.
She started to tell me about all the clothes that she had at her house "My old man went to prison for 8 years and he is your exact size," she offered.
I then made what would be my second mistake of that morning.
The first one was not reading in her face that she was angry and desperate.
The second one was, after she started to itemize all of the clothing that she had which she could sell me, I said: "Well, I had a rough night and woke up with only 31 dollars this morning; and can't for the life of me remember where I spent the rest."
She began to lead me towards her house, telling me along the way that she had tennis shoes, 5 shirts, pants, socks and underwear.
She then told me that she thought that I was a nice guy and that I was welcome in her house anytime, as long as I didn't do drugs.
I said that I only drank and smoked weed.
Then, she seemed to have a brainstorm.
We would swing by Basin Street, where they sell weed; buy some weed and then go and hang out at her place, where I could stock up on clothing.
We got to the spot near Basin Street and she asked me for 5 dollars to throw in on a 10 dollar sack.
I pulled my money out, and gave her 5 dollars, but then she asked me for 5 one dollar bills, "Because, I might be able to get the dime for 8 or 9, instead of 10.
She went across the street, while I watched her bike, as if it were collateral.
She returned about 5 minutes later and asked me for 10 more dollars, saying that the guy had half ounces and they were fat and she could get one for 20 dollars and that she would pay me back, as soon as we got to her house, out of 30 dollars which she had in her bible.
This was the third red flag, for those who are counting.
Did she really think that the mentioning of the fact that she had a bible (with money in it) was going to paint her as a morally upright person in my mind.
I should have just cut my losses and left right then, but I was thinking that she was at least going to have to come off of a lot of brand new clothes, should we get to her apartment only to discover that her bible had been pillaged by a roommate or someone (they are going to burn in hell!).
I gave her 10 dollars more, still thinking that she was the nice young lady that sold me discount clothes.
When she returned a third time asking for "the six dollars," which made me realize that the amount of 31 dollars, which I had told her that I had on me had sunken into her brain and that she was hell bent upon taking all of it from me, I told her that she had gotten me.
"Nice hustle, I never saw it coming," I said, as I walked away.
"That's on you!" she called after me, as if to say that if I were to jump ship at that point then I would be forfeiting my money and wouldn't get any clothes at all.
I went off with the 6 dollars that I had left and decided to drink it; which I did.
I told everyone that I met about how the girl who pushes a bike around but doesn't ride it, had ripped me off.
I went to Rouses Market to sell food stamps to my friend, so as to replace the money and not miss a beat; although it might become a hardship towards the end of the month.
I Am Struck In The Face
At the end of the night, I got to the Unique store. She was there.
The staff of the Unique Boutique had encountered her about my accusation that she had ripped me off.
They had had doubts about her integrity in the past, and had related my story to her, presenting it as having come from someone whom they believe.
The young lade walked into the store, and in full view of the cashiers and the security officer, slapped me in the face.
Her point seemed to have been that, since she had sold me 30 dollar jeans for 5 dollars, then I had no right to object to her having ripped me off for 25 dollars -do the math....
Well, it didn't end there.
I went around the corner and encountered a new friend, The Guy Who Plays The Water Jug, who was playing his water jug.
I sat down next to him and we talked. I took my guitar out and played.
Then, around the corner from the direction of Uniques came the lady, pushing her bike, and with her was what I assume was a goon from her gang, who she had recruited in order to do violence upon me.
Well, it so happened that, when the goon saw the guy who plays the water jug, they embraced as if they were old friends who hadn't seen each other in a while.
"This is my friend," said the water jug guy to him, at which point there was a change in his attitude, and he sat down to join us; and the lady with the bike looked on in exasperation for a minute and then went off, probably trying to find someone else to kick my ass.
There is a young black lady who rides, or more often pushes, a bike around the Quarter.
She has sold me clothes before. She sold me jeans once; for 4 dollars; and then not long after that, had a pair of brand new Wrangler jeans in my exact size (of 31X32) with the price tag still on them.
She only had wanted 4 dollars for each pair.
Tuesday morning, I woke up with 31 dollars on me.
I had had 51 dollars Monday morning, and could not recall where I had spent the money that day, except for 10 dollars on a USB cable which I found didn't fit my MP3 player.
Some other musician (I guess) whom I had never seen before asked me if I had an extra low "e" string when I was walking Bourbon Street after not having made much money that night; he said "I'll give you 20 dollars for it.
That was the only string which I had an extra of on me, as a matter of fact. It seemed fated.
I sold it for 20 dollars, reminding myself that I had paid $2.17 for the thing and was only profiting $17.83 on the deal, and to not go hog-wild in spending the money on an expensive beer or anything.
Tuesday morning, the same girl was by her bike (which I recognized more than I did her face, because I am terrible with faces) in front of The Unique Grocery Store.
"Didn't I buy clothes off of you once?" I asked.
I wasn't sure that it was her because her countenance was distorted by a scowl on her face.
She said "Yeah, why, what's up?"
Well, I had 31 dollars, and maybe she could smell it on me, because she immediately asked me what size shoe I wore.
She started to tell me about all the clothes that she had at her house "My old man went to prison for 8 years and he is your exact size," she offered.
I then made what would be my second mistake of that morning.
The first one was not reading in her face that she was angry and desperate.
The second one was, after she started to itemize all of the clothing that she had which she could sell me, I said: "Well, I had a rough night and woke up with only 31 dollars this morning; and can't for the life of me remember where I spent the rest."
She began to lead me towards her house, telling me along the way that she had tennis shoes, 5 shirts, pants, socks and underwear.
She then told me that she thought that I was a nice guy and that I was welcome in her house anytime, as long as I didn't do drugs.
I said that I only drank and smoked weed.
Then, she seemed to have a brainstorm.
We would swing by Basin Street, where they sell weed; buy some weed and then go and hang out at her place, where I could stock up on clothing.
We got to the spot near Basin Street and she asked me for 5 dollars to throw in on a 10 dollar sack.
I pulled my money out, and gave her 5 dollars, but then she asked me for 5 one dollar bills, "Because, I might be able to get the dime for 8 or 9, instead of 10.
She went across the street, while I watched her bike, as if it were collateral.
She returned about 5 minutes later and asked me for 10 more dollars, saying that the guy had half ounces and they were fat and she could get one for 20 dollars and that she would pay me back, as soon as we got to her house, out of 30 dollars which she had in her bible.
This was the third red flag, for those who are counting.
Did she really think that the mentioning of the fact that she had a bible (with money in it) was going to paint her as a morally upright person in my mind.
I should have just cut my losses and left right then, but I was thinking that she was at least going to have to come off of a lot of brand new clothes, should we get to her apartment only to discover that her bible had been pillaged by a roommate or someone (they are going to burn in hell!).
I gave her 10 dollars more, still thinking that she was the nice young lady that sold me discount clothes.
When she returned a third time asking for "the six dollars," which made me realize that the amount of 31 dollars, which I had told her that I had on me had sunken into her brain and that she was hell bent upon taking all of it from me, I told her that she had gotten me.
"Nice hustle, I never saw it coming," I said, as I walked away.
"That's on you!" she called after me, as if to say that if I were to jump ship at that point then I would be forfeiting my money and wouldn't get any clothes at all.
I went off with the 6 dollars that I had left and decided to drink it; which I did.
I told everyone that I met about how the girl who pushes a bike around but doesn't ride it, had ripped me off.
I went to Rouses Market to sell food stamps to my friend, so as to replace the money and not miss a beat; although it might become a hardship towards the end of the month.
I Am Struck In The Face
At the end of the night, I got to the Unique store. She was there.
The staff of the Unique Boutique had encountered her about my accusation that she had ripped me off.
They had had doubts about her integrity in the past, and had related my story to her, presenting it as having come from someone whom they believe.
The young lade walked into the store, and in full view of the cashiers and the security officer, slapped me in the face.
Her point seemed to have been that, since she had sold me 30 dollar jeans for 5 dollars, then I had no right to object to her having ripped me off for 25 dollars -do the math....
Well, it didn't end there.
I went around the corner and encountered a new friend, The Guy Who Plays The Water Jug, who was playing his water jug.
I sat down next to him and we talked. I took my guitar out and played.
Then, around the corner from the direction of Uniques came the lady, pushing her bike, and with her was what I assume was a goon from her gang, who she had recruited in order to do violence upon me.
Well, it so happened that, when the goon saw the guy who plays the water jug, they embraced as if they were old friends who hadn't seen each other in a while.
"This is my friend," said the water jug guy to him, at which point there was a change in his attitude, and he sat down to join us; and the lady with the bike looked on in exasperation for a minute and then went off, probably trying to find someone else to kick my ass.
More like you got conned out of money .... pretty funny that jug guy vouched for you and you didn't get beat up.
ReplyDeleteBTW I think the "flute guy who looks like he's 35 .. etc. is Wendall, a flute player who comes out here to San Jose for the Christmas season. I'd not call him the Tanya Huang of flute players, but he's good, moves around when he plays, and puts a lot of "filigree" on the pieces he plays and people are impressed by that. Plus, he's very friendly and being tall doesn't hurt, and everyone naturally likes him. I hope to see him this winter.
His name is indeed Wendell or Wendall if you're from Gilroy LOL
ReplyDeleteI'm not really from Gilroy, just lived there for about 3 years.
ReplyDeleteYeah that's the guy. Tanya Huang he is not, but has been playing the flute since high school, knows a lot about music, and is a very enjoyable performer to hear, see, and be around. He comes out here to the Bay Area, hits up San Jose, San Francisco, etc. I guess he knows people so he always has places to stay. Great guy.