13
Jul
10

So, I know it seems like i hate the ADA, but I don’t. The ADA hates me.

A little piece of me died on the Fourth of July.

Once again, I underestimated the power of a motherfucker with no legs to creep into my body, and steal my very soul.

You see, I’d assumed, that if your legs were all fucked and paraplegically janky, you would generally err on the side of shutting the hell up, and not letting any manner of crazy shit come out of your fully-functioning mouth.

Wrong.

Wrong.

As it turns out, a Gumbylegged bitch will roll up on you and ruin your entire evening just as quickly as a bitch with good, working knees.

There I was, clad in my fresh, white dress, shoulders out, hair all black and shiny (by “shiny” I mean, glossy-enough-to-look-fantastically-HalleBerry-in-good-lighting, but just-short-of-greasy-so-any-white-man-or-not-typically-associated-with-black-girls-devoid-of-color-man could run his fingers all through it and escape confusion or awkwardness), sitting solo (ON PURPOSE) by the bar on the first floor of the W.

I was jotting down notes from the previous evening, and my neck was still flushed from the ribald guffaw I’d just delivered to my barkeep’s face when he’d informed me that my glass of chardonnay was seventeen dollars.

All I’d wanted was to pass some time; to avoid the fray of south-bound holiday traffic.

And I was doing so, peacefully, when my thoughts were interrupted by the, “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” coming from down below.

Seated in one of those half wheelchair/half walker contraptions (for the sake of today’s entry, we’ll refer to said machine as a “wheelwalker”), was a Chinese girl, seemingly my age, wearing one thousand rings on her mere ten fingers, and a tiara on her head.

Mellowed out by my first glass of wine for the evening, but, truthfully, probably my fourth for the day, I answered, simply, “Not at all,” and moved my purse from the coveted spot.

Let me use my favorite hood preamble so you can appropriately gage the gravity of the following set of circumstances.

Now,me,myself,personally—I don’t just roll up on other broads while I’m out and strike up conversation with them for no reason. That’s either some Ilovemesomebitches type shit or some I’mwarmandoverlyfriendly type shit. I profess no particular talent for either category.

Which is why I was surprised—and by “surprised” I mean “shocked” and “fucking appalled”—when this broad proceeded to do just that—strike up a random conversation with me.

WheelwalkerBroad: “I love the Fourth of July, don’t you!?”

Me: “Er—I’m not particularly big on it as far as holidays go, no.”

WWB: “I think a lot of black people feel that way.”

Me: “Uh, I didn’t mean it from a—“

WWB: “Cause like, I know a lot of black people are angry about slavery and racism and stuff, but, like, I’m like, I mean, get over it.”

Now, I want to stop the narrative, at this point, and inform everyone that, when shit like this happens to you, you never respond the way you think you’ll respond. For instance, me,myself,personally, I assume that I’d get all righteously indignant, stand up, and shout out my Angela Davis/Stokely Carmichael-style schpiel detailing 200 years of slavery, three decades of Jim Crow, and present-day continued systemic, institutionalized race-prejudice, followed by an angered pouring of my drink on her non-working, ignorant, babylegs.

But she was handicapped.

And my drink cost seventeen dollars.

So, instead, I just sat there, mouth agape, as she continued, barely ceasing for breath, about black people being angry for good reason, but, you know, beleaguering the point and “not getting over it.”

And she had lots to say. LOTS.

She talked about hating the people she’d gone to college with, because they were all spoiled, rich types; not people like her and “probably [me]” who’d come from hard-working, but poor families.

She talked about how she’d thought that sororities were so stupid, and how her roommate had pledged a sorority and she didn’t know what all they’d done, but she was certain it was stupid. And besides that, even if it wasn’t, they were mean black girls, and probably discouraged her roommate from being her friend. They were Deltas. All Deltas were mean. She hated Deltas. Only after she’d vomited this sea of unwanted information all over my person, did she inquire: “Did you pledge a sorority when you were in college?” Me: “Yes.” WWB: “Oh really? Which one?” Me: “Delta.”

Between her repeated and conspicuous flip-hair-over-shoulder-then-flip-it-forward-to-hang-on-shoulder movements, she told me about her one million careers, one of which had included doing hair and makeup for “lots of designers.” She let me know that I should probably wear a little bit more make up; that while my eyelashes had sufficient length, they could use a bit more volume.

And I wanted to scream. I did. I wanted to tell her to shut up. I truly did.

But the bitch didn’t have any legs.

What do I look like screaming “Shut the fuck up!” to a bitch with no legs in a bar? How am I gonna look, being all, “BITCH, you’re wearing a FUCKING TIARA in a BAR” to a broad with Teddy Pendergrass  quadriceps in the foyer of the W? It’s kind of a classy place. It just isn’t done.

So there I sat, considering the ramifications of simply setting myself on fire, and the likelihood of her continuing her one-woman conversation with my charred, smoky, engulfed in flames black body, when she suggested: “So, I’m on the list for the party upstairs. Wanna come? It’s free top shelf booze til 12.”

DING DING DING DING DING DING DING!!!!

I called to mind the countless times throughout my childhood when my mother and grandmother had informed me, “God can do anything but fail.” And I knew that my willingness to bind my tongue, just this once, had paid off. And my reward would not have to wait til Heaven. Oh no. My reward was in a chilled glass on the rooftop of the W.

Once upstairs, a lot of people stared at us.

I had been drinking, so it was hard to say if they were staring because we looked ridiculous together, or because I looked so dope in my white dress with my glossy hair.

But, were I a betting woman, I’d guess that they were staring because my companion was in her wheelwalker JAMMING.

I mean, gettingthefuckdown.

She was doing half-sexy half body rolls in her wheelwalker (Here’s something you don’t often think about: a full body roll with full-sexy is a luxury only able-bodied bitches can afford. You don’t realize how lucky you are til you see a bitch attempt a half body roll in her wheelwalker).

And while she wasn’t doing wheelies or spins in the WW, she was definitely on the floor grooving with her machinery. Like, make-the-crowd-of-people-around-us-hype grooving.

At some point, I became really self-conscious about all of the eyes on us. And then it hit me—the depths to which I’d sink for free alcohol.

I feigned dizziness, and tried to gracefully depart, but WWB followed me to the bathroom. She chatted incessantly about nothing even as I peed.

As I washed my hands and told her I was ready to go home, she suggested we hit up another spot a few blocks up and go for a swim in a rooftop pool. Free entry, of course. More free booze, of course.

And I thought about my life, just then. I thought about the woman I’d become. I thought about how far away I was from home. I thought about the next time I’d get to go skinny dipping in some rooftop pool with a bunch of strangers and free booze, without a care in the world.

Then another scene entered my mind. This one involved me explaining to EMS workers how I’d gotten some pseudo-legless broad wasted and then dumped her little drunken naked ass in a pool, where her efforts to swim like everyone else had resulted in an irrevocable, fatal fail.

The party was over.

“Naw, dawg,” I said. “Thanks, but, I gotta get home.”

She looked crestfallen, but it couldn’t be helped. I wasn’t gonna end my future over this bitch. She hated Deltas and had called me poor.

“All right,” WWB sighed. “By the way, what was your name, again?”

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11 Responses to “So, I know it seems like i hate the ADA, but I don’t. The ADA hates me.”


  1. 1 LawInTheMaking
    July 13, 2010 at 9:18 pm

    That story was well worth the wait and incessantly pressing F5 until you updated your blog. (just kidding). Absolutely priceless. Your writing is pristine.

  2. 2 LawInTheMaking
    July 13, 2010 at 9:20 pm

    Funny thing is, I could have sworn from the title that this was going to be some courtroom drama (Assistant District Attorney). My mistaken belief was to my pleasant surprise and never-ending laughter.

  3. 3 Jet Black
    July 13, 2010 at 10:24 pm

    Hil. ar. i. ty.

  4. 4 Bar Preppin Doesn't Involve a Lick of Alcohol
    July 14, 2010 at 1:07 am

    LOL @ LawintheMaking!

    Ms. Ad Lib,

    When *I* saw ADA, I just KNEW you were about to tell a tale of how you ran into that guy with 1 1/4 legs–well, 1/2 right leg and 3/4 left leg–(AGAIN)! LOL!! Wrong or not, this is yet ANOTHER entertaining story to add to your repertoire! Your life really is my entertainment while I prep for the bar exam! Thanksssssssss!

  5. July 14, 2010 at 1:36 pm

    No.

    I literally had to wipe tears from my eyes I was laughing so hard…COMEDY!!!!!!!

  6. July 15, 2010 at 5:40 pm

    At this point, I’m just going to assume that this blog is training for you in the field of fiction writing, because This. Did. Not. Happen.

    But in the slight chance that this is an actual anecdote culled from the real adventures of your life, I can only wish that I’d have been there. Because then, it could have ascended to a new plateau of awesome.

  7. July 15, 2010 at 6:27 pm

    Also, when you write “Wrong” twice, on their own separate lines, I hear Charlie Murphy’s voice in my head from True Hollywood Stories.

  8. July 15, 2010 at 6:36 pm

    best.post.ever.

    handicapped or not, no one is above reproach. being in a wheelwalker doesn’t exempt you from being dealt with accordingly.

    bravo.

  9. 9 sourpatchkid
    July 16, 2010 at 1:30 am

    holy crap. that part about learning to appreciate a full body roll had me dying. why does this stuff happen to you fooler??? whyyyy???? bwahaha. but i so appreciate your commitment to getting that free drank…not mad at all.

  10. 10 Eesh
    July 16, 2010 at 7:04 pm

    This was absolutely hilarious!!!!! You should be a comedian!

  11. 11 Bunny
    July 19, 2010 at 2:45 pm

    Wow lol. My personal belief is something like that will happen only in DC…I’ve found myself around some crazy ass want to talk to me for no reason people, where as I’m not on the Ilovebitches or Imwarmandoverlyfriendly tip. You better than me because I would have ditched that broad as soon as she started all that yapping.


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