Blowed (the conclusion)

Previously on Blowed: Part 1 and Part 2

Kareem, Dmitri and I stood at the Indian Hills train station for what seemed an eternity. All of the jocularity of the afternoon disappeared, replaced by a sense of blowedness. Don’t get me wrong, we worried about Earl, but more than that we just couldn’t believe that he would just jet on us in an unfamiliar city. Finally, the disappointment turned to anger and we decided to carry on without Earl.

Meat: Fuck that nigga! I ain’t missing Wu Tang for his sorry ass.

Me: Y’all wanna head to the concert?

Meat: Hell Yeah! I ain’t no damn babysitter. He know where we gonna be at. Kareem, that’s your boy. You in or you out?

Kareem: Let’s roll. We’ll catch up with him later.

With the decision made, the three of us hopped on the first train to the West End to check out the Wu. Their “36 Chambers” album had just dropped and had real hip hop heads like us open. They had a unique rhyme style and diverse beats that appealed to fans all over the country. The show was at Morris Brown’s football stadium and featured Redman as one of the opening acts. The sun was setting and the day’s heat was turning into a nightly chill. We planned to change clothes to accommodate the weather, but Earl’s disappearing act made that impossible. We jammed to “Protect Ya Neck” and got hype to “M-E-T-H-O-D Man” with the rest of the crowd. The music made me forget how freakin cold it actually was. (It was so cold that some cats actually started a bonfire on the 50 yard line.) After the show, we headed backstage to hang with Wu Tang, who were more than accommodating to their fans.

Me: YO, Meth bust a freestyle for us.

Method Man: Man I get paid to rap, but I got you.

Method Man dropped some rhymes as a cipher surrounded him. It was like a scene out of the 80’s where people from all over just vibed together over a good rap battle. Although I was not even close to being on a professional level, I kicked a rhyme too. It was the highlight of the evening for me. The time came for Wu Tang to leave and THE RZA corralled his crew to the tour bus.

RZA: In the words of the great Black leader, Martin Luther King: Nigga, go that way!

Kareem, Dmitri and I laughed at their antics and after giving the Wu pounds and respect, we left the stadium. On the way out, we heard a yell in our direction.

Voice: Yo, Kareem! Over here!

We turned around and who did we see: that nigga Earl! It had been about 7 hours since we last saw him. He was dressed in a long sleeve shirt and some Khakis, which starkly contrasted with our gear which consisted of shorts and shirt sleeve shirts. It occurred to me that Earl was not wearing the same clothes he had on earlier. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks: this nigga went to MY sisters house and changed clothes while we were searching all over for him. I’m normally the calm one, the voice of reason, but my patience had worn thin. I was ready to throw blows. I ran towards Earl, with violent intentions.

Me: You little punk muhfucka! Where the fuck you was at?

Earl: We got separated, so I went back to the truck.

Me: Nigga, you went to MY sister’s crib and changed clothes! While we out her freezing our asses off. I oughta bust yo muhfuckin ass!

I threw a left hook that narrowly missed Earl’s jaw. I guess the Marines taught him how to duck a punch. Kareem and Meat intervened and stopped me from throwing my follow up right left combination. Kareem found the whole scene hilarious.

Kareem: T., I’ve known you since 7th grade and I ain’t never seen you lose your temper.

Me: Fuck that! This nigga been actin like a bitch all fucking weekend.

Kareem: I know, man. But just chill, we still gotta ride back home with him.

Me: Leave this muhfucka in Atlanta!!!

Meat: You aiight, man! We ain’t gonna let you go until you calm down.

Me: I’m cool, I’m cool! But you tell that muhfucka to stay outta my way or it’s on.

They let me go and I realized that everybody was looking at me. Sudden embarrassment took hold and I walked off on my own. I needed to cool down. What the fuck was I thinking? Shit, I can’t fight. The last time I got in a fight was back in 3rd grade. And this nigga is a US Government trained killer. Still, with the anger and adrenaline I had flowing through my veins, I think I could have taken him that night. Kareem caught up with me and gave me a couple hits off the blunt and I calmed down. We rode the train back to the car in deafening silence. I finally decided to ask what all of us were thinking.

Me: Earl, why you been acting shady this weekend? You act like you allergic to fun.

Earl: I just didn’t want to spend my money.

Me: If you broke, why you didn’t just say so? We broke too, but we could have spotted you.

Earl: I’m not broke!

Kareem: How much money you got on you?

Earl (stammering): Don’t worry about it. That’s my business.

Kareem: You broke ass muhfucka! You ain’t got shit, do you?

Meat: This nigga here! Man, we ain’t no ballas. We some broke college students. I can’t believe you acted like a bitch because of some money.

Earl: That’s not it

Me: Whatever, don’t say shit to me until we get back home. I’m dead fuckin serious about that.

We got to the car and dropped Earl’s trifling ass off at my sister’s house. After changing clothes, Kareem, Dmitri and I went to Atrium where Too $hort was hosting the festivities with Erick Sermon. We danced with some shawties, and talked shit and had another good night without Earl. After Atrium closed, we parking lot pimped at 112 until 5 in the morning, then went home to get a couple hours of shuteye before leaving the next morning. .

The Freaknik trip was a rollercoaster of emotions. We had lots of fun, but also spent a lot of time being blowed. That nigga Earl almost ruined the whole experience for me. I for one took this as a learning experience. Don’t ever go anywhere with broke ass, crazy ass, bitch ass niggaz that you don’t know, cuz that shit will blow you.

It was written…