Me First

This is a story from December 14. 2010

This weekend my best friend and I drove to San Diego to watch the Chargers date rape the Chiefs. Very exciting stuff. At the end of the game we ran for the train, like thousands of other fans. We were pushed aside by young men and old ladies alike as we tried to navigate our way to the east bound train. We were, a little lost. Suddenly we are as far as the crowd will allow us to go. A train is leaving, and the rest of us must stand and wait in traffic. “But why?” I ask. There was room on that train and there is a clear path in front of me to move closer to the platform and be sure to get on the next train. The only thing holding me back is some lady’s Independence Day tote bag made from recycled water bottles and my innate obsession with being polite. “Should I brush her to the side?” I think. No, just wait and she’ll turn to the right allowing me to scoot by, best friend in tow.
I wait approximately 45 seconds and the path opens. I tug my girl, Pellett, further. We move 4 feet ahead before some lady yells “Hey! You’re just gonna cut in line? You can’t do that”. But we can do that. There is no law against cutting in line. And there is no “line” really, just a group of folks standing around. Maybe the people in front of me don’t want to move forward, but I do. I definitely want to get on the next train. My buzz is wearing off and I’m sweating like a Guatemalan whore at the southern Mexican border. “Don’t let them get any further” she yells to the crowd. Is this woman inciting a riot because I moved four feet ahead of her? Pellett gets nervous and embarrassed and pulls away from me. “Jae, lets just stop”. What the bleep? We don’t even know these people and we don’t live in San Diego. Who cares? We’re all probably getting on the next train anyway. What difference does it make? “Grow up!” the lady yells. I turn around to face my accuser. “Why don’t you just get over it?” I say. Then I yank Pellett forward. Now I’m angry. Not at the lady, but at my best friend. Doesn’t she know that I would punch a pregnant lady in the uterus for her? She tells me that we’re not from the same place so maybe our ways of handling this are not the same. My best friend is trying to politely tell me that she thinks I’m “Ghetto”. She’s right, I am but besides that fact we had been pushed aside all day by strangers and Pellett was actually more bothered by it than me. The one time I push a little my best friend jumps ship.
But what did I learn from this tiny moment in the life of earth? I learned that it is okay to push, as long as you are willing to stand up for your self, right or wrong. Your best friend may not want to take the same path you take but you gotta be willing to move forward. You must be your biggest advocate and your own enforcer of progress. 2 minutes later I could not pick that agitator out of a crowd to give her the death stare I so desperately wanted to give or to walk up to her and stand awkwardly close and smile and call her a racist because I’ve always wanted to play the “race card”, but I’m thankful for her and today is a new day in the life and times of this Negative Negro. Today is the day “I stop being polite and start being real!” wait that’s from the “Real World”, but it’s just cheesy enough to work.