March 6, 2001
Cold as Ice...
I heard about the story early last week. Those sophisticated satellites that orbit this throbbing orb can pick up a rainstorm that is developing over Asia, trace the path across the Pacific, to the United States, and continue to track it as it lays down a trail of showers or snowstorms, depending on the temperature in a particular region. The weather men use those trusty satellites like magic balls and make their predictions with pinpoint accuracy.
At least that's what they're supposed to do.
The big winterstorm of 2001, a blizzard, is supposed to be laying an ice cold smack on the east coast today but I've been to the nine fiver, to the store, and back, and I've yet to witness those frosty flakes yet. There is a thin coating of white stuff on the cars and sidewalks, but no where near the twenty inches that they are still predicting will be here 'any minute now.' Weathermen live for this kind of action but sometimes you just have to let it go and admit that you were wrong. It's been raining all day. The snow that we have gotten is kinda like when you get you get to the end of the cereal box, your standing there shaking it and nothing comes out but the sugar crumbs, that's what it's been like!
How that's possible when it's 25 degrees and the hawk is blowing down every street corner, I don't know. But a quick glance at the calendar tells me that in a few months the sunshine will be beaming those glory rays, heating up everything in sight. Summertime baby! So I made sure I grabbed dem ironbars and got to pumping, gotta get puffed up for that Sixers 2001 NBA Championship jersey, I'll be sporting this summer . Yeah, I'm a Knick fan but I wouldn't mind seeing the Sixers take it home this year. AI gained my respect during the all-star game. People (including myself) thought he only played hard because he's the only one who can score on his team. NO. He plays that way because he wants to win.
That hunger is what superstars are made of and he spread that starvation all over the court, stealing, dishing, hitting ridiculous jump shots, running into the lane no matter who was standing in the way.... The all-star game is usually goof-off time but the East had something to prove and Iverson led the way, while Mutumbo cleaned up the middle a lil sumin. The best joint to go down in awhile. But when they play the Knicks I'm rooting for the orange and blue. June is gonna be videotape material.
That's roundball, but for me, personally, I hope that isn't anything like June 2000.. or was it 1999?
I was in the hoop, the square, cream-colored, 85 Maxima - it must have been 1999, because I've had my GMC truck for a year and change - anyway; I had to pick up some shit from the mall. On my way back home I decided to make a a stop at my mom's house, so I'm driving down Archer Avenue in Queens and made a right onto Sutphin Blvd. As soon as I turned the corner I knew it was a mistake; the red flares in the road said it all... a police checkpoint. DAMN! You know how Ol Dirty drives without a license, well I was driving without insurance.. well at least without the card. As I approach the 41 shot, trigger happy, cops, I'm trying to look as cool and non-chalant as possible. I must have been trying to hard though because they told me to pull over and hand them the information. Fifteen minutes later I had my hands twisted behind my back and was stuffed in the back of a squad car like a polish sausage, one hand here, a leg over there, knees to the chin, a comfortable ride to the station house.
Now let it be know that I've never been through the system, but it looks like after today, I won't be able to say that because after taking my jewelry, money, and winterfresh gum, I was headed to central booking. It seems that not only didn't I have my insurance card, but the check that I sent to Geico hadn't cleared yet, so they cancelled my insurance. F the post office. Slow muthaf*ckas. That's why I love e-mail.
I bring this story up because it's freezing outside. Let me see... the weather channel... yup.. it's 23 degrees. That jail cell was about 15 degrees. It was like the polar ice caps in there, and because of that, let me tell you, all the shit you hear about razor blades popping out from underneath the tongue and dudes leaving central booking with some stinking socks flapping around on their feet, cause their sneakers are now a trophy piece for some kid... False. The best way to deter violence in jail is to turn down the thermostat. Niggas was chilled to the bone, huddling up underneath benches, complaining to the officers, standing stiff in one spot because they didn't want that breeze underneath their shirt. I was one of them, it was June, so all I had on was shorts and a t-shirt.
This went on for a couple of hours. We... well they woke up.. I couldn't sleep under dem' conditions.. and they served us some milk, rice krispies and a very old, beaten, tiny, little apple. Eat up. After that we switched cells, but before going before the judge, the court appointed lawyer would dish out advice to each person in a separate room. Her advice to me was 'plead guilty, and you'll get a $75 dollar fine.' I took it. When the judge called their name, dudes in the holding cell was getting amped, like it was a lottery number, ...'Chris Grandison.' WHOO HOOOO!! When I finally got outside it felt like I had been locked up for 4 or five days, it was only 21 hours.
Enough time for me to realize two things:
1. Always pay your car insurance on time.
2. If you don't, carry a jacket in the car.
Chris Grandison aka FabTimesThree
