It’s Saturday night. Just took the dollar van ($2 dollars these days) over the bridge. Happy to be back on NY soil. Love NJ, my birth place, but Brooklyn is home these days. Up on 171st – The Heights. I remember when I use to skip class and walk over the GWB to hang in the Heights. Spanish food and Dominican girls was the objective. And spoke a little bit of the language then…. “Hola mami. ¿Cómo se llama?” I would collect a friendly smile, a number or two (if I was I lucky) and full belly. Next, I would hop on the A and head to Harlem. No language barrier there. Simple head nods, a random “sup?” or “wha’ gwan'” to my yardies (fellow Jamaicans) or a dead stare just let people know not to test me – It’s just the mask you wear to survive the streets. You have to act the part or simply be invisible.
But that was then and this is now. I bypass the stop at two fifths (125th St) and nod off on the near empty train as it rumbles towards BK. I’ll be home soon enough.