The 7 D.E.P. Chronicles: Welcome to Miami

*Juke turns to 102.3 on the FM dial.  How fitting...they are playing "I Wanna Rock" by Luke."

You know, the key to fraternal bonding lies deep inside one of the oldest rituals ever known to man.  Since the days of the ancient pharoahs...all the way through Mansa Musa of the Mali Empire...and even up to the barbaric tribes of Europe...men have bonded through one major rites of passage ceremony.

The Road Trip.

Yes...road trips are the  little diddies in life by which men who are acquainted can become like brothers in a 36 hour time span. Road trips know no fraternal affiliation, and they hold no limits in terms of race, creed, or ignorance.  They simply make returning to real life on Monday that much easier.

Now in order for road trips to be successful, there are rules to the game.  And I wrote a manual to help facilitate the rules for those who need assistance in optimizing the road trip experience.  The rules are straight-forward enough, but as you will see with the examples, the implementation is critical for the benefit of all who participate.

Rule 1: Never leave homies on stuck.

So Pretty Rickie, Big D, and I were on South Beach, and during Memorial Day, traffic on South Beach is about as slow as a Waffle House with one cook. Well, Rickie was driving, and Brian and I were riding like real Gs do. (This was before I found out the benefits of living above the streets...back when I was still in the drug game. Juke did it so that the youth won't have to do it.)  Anyway, the strip was littered with women...short, tall, slim, thick, chunky, curly hurr, straight hurr, Hawaiian Silky no. 5.  Any type of woman you could think of was out on the beach, and all they wanted was for some young, handsome mens to come and spend a little time and conversation. And we were happy to oblige...

Now the following sequence of events are kinda fuzzy, and depending on who you ask, they may or may not have happened in this particular order.  But I am going to tell it as I remember it, and anyone who disagrees can chime in as needed.

Well Big D and I hopped out the truck and started politicking with the ladies that were on the block.  I am sure Pretty Rickie would have jumped out too, but somebody had to drive the vehicle, and at the time, Big D and I weren't thinking about all of that.  We just saw a few Big Booty Judys and was tryin' to get our flirt on.

Karma will always kick you in the ass. 

Pretty Rickie parked 12 blocks away from where we were posted.  Yes, I said 12 blocks away.  Furthermore, he got all of his clothes for the evening ready so that when it was time to hit the club that night, Brian and I were stuck walking back 12 blocks to the car while he went to the club with the other bruhs that we knew from Miami.  Had we just followed rule number 1, things would have been great. 

But that actually turned out to be a blessing in the midst of the curse.

Rule 2: If it sounds too good to be true, do it anyway.

So Brian and I finally made it back to the truck.  Fortunately for us, we always keep a grooming bag and some freshen-up supplies on deck, cause the ladies don't like men who smell like "all-day-long."  After changing clothes, getting back in pimp mode, and hitting the nozzle on the smell good, we were off to hit the club (which, once again, was 12 blocks from where we were.)  As we began the trek to the club, we ran into some of the Florida Memorial bruhs.  They were ready to get the party jumpin too, so at least we had a group to hang with as we made that 12 block walk.

Well, on the way to the club, we saw a bouncer outside of a smaller establishment.  He yelled to us..."You five dudes...come on in right now.  It's free of charge."

Now let me put this in context.  Out of all the clubs I have ever been to in Miami, I have never gotten in free to any of the ones on South Beach.  And if I did, it never happened this easy.  I usually had to call someone I know, flirt with the woman taking the money, and pretend to be someone famous and low-key.  And that shyt only worked once.  So imagine the shock when they were ready to let FIVE DUDES in for the free.

We huddled up.

PROS:
1) Free entry
2) No Line, no wait
3) We could always leave and hit another one if it isn't poppin.

CONS:
1) Could be a gay club
2) Could be empty
3) No one had heard of this spot before
4) Sounds too good to be true

With all of that tossed around, we came to a conclusion: F*ck it, let's do it.

We walked into the club, nervous about what may lie on the opposite side of the doorway.  And then it happened...

The club was packed, wall to wall, with women.  And there were literally NO MEN in the club.  (Well the bathroom attendant didn't count.)  200 women, 5 men.  Needless to say, the fraternal gods were smiling down on us that evening.

We tried to be calm as we walked into the den of estrogen, but within 5 minutes of us entering the club, the women jumped on us.  You see, they weren't leaving the club because it was free, but they were upset that no men were there.  So you could just see the mouths watering as they saw us walk into the spot.  The music was humpin' too. I think they were playing "Booty Butt Cheeks" or something similar.

Sidenote:  I don't know why women have a problem being treated like a piece of meat.  Personally, it was one of the more pleasurable experiences of my life. LOL.

After about two hours of being groped and caressed by the supple hands of myriad females, my phone rang. It was Pretty Rickie calling from the other club.  Now I know I was wrong for this, especially since we left him on stuck earlier. But I hit ignore.

And I ended up hitting ignore 8 more times before the night was over. Back then, the old school Nokias only had two basic function buttons, and ignore was my favorite that night.

It was four o clock when we left the spot.  Not because the club died out, but because we literally couldn't take another lap dance. We walked down to the other club, still amazed and in a state of delirium from the encounters we just had.  This is what being young was all about.

Rule 3: If you have fraternal connections, use them.

By the time we made it to the other club, it was going on 5:30 am.  We went to a restaurant to eat food, met up with a soror named Quita who lived in Miami, and the group basically chilled out for the next two hours, dreading the 12 block walk back to the truck (somehow, we had wondered another 12 blocks in the opposite direction, so we had more hiking to do.)  It was literally 7:30 am when we decided it was time to try and get back to bed before doing it all again the next day.

But that 12 blocks seemed so formidable.

As we set out on our trek, the gods saw fit to help us once again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Pretty Rickie saw a car with an AKA tag on it.  Now PR was always "Johnny on the spot" when it came to solving emergency problems. This extended back to our crossing days, which will be discussed in a future blog post. Well, when he saw the car approaching, he devised a nefarious plot to save the day.

"John, you post up on the wall.  Quita, you and Brian go hide around the corner.  Let me do the talking."

PR flagged the soror down, and she and her friend pulled over to chat with frat.  The conversation went something like this.

-RE-ENACTMENT-

PR: Hey soror. (To the friend) hey baby girl.  Y'all are out kinda early on the block huh?
Soror: Yeah, we are heading home, cause we are tired.  Why are you out so early?
PR:  We are trying to get to our car.  Do you mind helping your pham out?
Soror: For you, bruh...I got you.  You know how Lyle Love gets down.

At that point, Rickie yells for us to get in.  You should have seen how big her eyes got as she saw four people rush her car to hop in.  Now, let me paint the picture:

1997 Toyota Corolla.

Three dudes weighing a total of 768 pounds and a soror added to the mix.

Four people, almost a thousand pounds, in the backseat of a Toyota Corolla.


*Let that sink in for a second*

So we piled in.  PR and Big D were on the outsides...I was in the middle.  Quita laid across our laps in fetal position, and once we closed the door, you could feel the car drop about 3 inches.  I clare fo lawd I think her shocks gave way on the way to the truck.  The awkward silence in the car let me know that she felt duped, but I am glad that she still gave us a ride.  That is what pham love is for, and if you ever read this soror, we love you for helping us out.

That was the longest ride ever.  No one could move an inch, and we were stuck like that for 20 minutes.  To add insult to injury, a group of Mexicans drove up next to us.  Now, I may be just assuming they were Mexican since they had the Mexican flag painted on their truck...but I know that when they started laughing and pointing at us, the stereotype had just been reversed.


There are many more rules to a good road trip, but ultimately, the idea is to have fun.  And we had tons of it.  So for everyone going to Memorial Day in Miami, I can only pray that you have half the fun that we had that weekend.  Be safe, and hump a little something in honor of your boys 7 D.E.P.

*Fade to Black*

Where is your Joy?

The purpose of this blog post is simply to share something that I received this past weekend during Mother's day at church.  Now, most people who know me know that I tend to talk about life issues in many ways...sometimes secularly and sometimes in a religious sense.  This post will touch a little of both.

The message Sunday was one in a series of sermons about the Fruits of the Spirit, and this week, Pastor Simmons discussed Joy. It was a follow-up sermon to his discussion on Love the week before, and he tied both concepts together beautifully (and in under 20 minutes.) As he spoke, I felt that mostly everything that was said applied to me, and therefore, I will share with you what I got out of the sermon in hopes that if you need to hear it to, you will at this point.

Joy vs. Happiness

Pastor Simmons spent a major portion of the lecture discussing the difference between joy and happiness. (Paraphrasing) He defined happiness as something that is tied into the tangible...that is, attached and dependent on people, places, possession, and status.  He spoke of how we often feel like we are happy when we obtain the things of this world, but that the things of this world devalue at times, and that our happiness can fluctuate with this process.  People will inherently fail us, we inherently get bored with possessions...ultimately, happiness can change from one moment to the next.

Joy, however, is something that relies not on the external environment (your loved ones, friends, possessions, etc.) but on your internal environment (your spirituality, faith, and divine connection.)  He described how joy will allow you to maintain peace and happiness even when the things of the world fail you.  Ultimately, if joy is sought, it won't fail you because it is tied to the intangible, which rarely fails you.

As I listened to this, I began to think about the things that bring/brought me "happiness" and I realize that it was exactly what had been happening with me in my life.  I would often tie my friendships and relationships to my happiness. (For me, possessions, status, and other superficial things were never really apart of what I valued highly.)  This at times was to a fault, and as he spoke, I could directly tie the darker points of my life and my happiness to an inherent flaw in human nature and how those people who I invested so much of my happiness into were only doing what was bound to happen anyway. Now granted, that doesn't excuse anyone for anything that happened if it was their fault, but it does put into perspective how much power I gave those individuals over my happiness.  This was something that I needed to hear, and it couldn't have come at a better time.

Happiness in Others

Another aspect that hit me as I listened to Pastor Simmons was the notion that it is truly unfair for us to put so much of our happiness and perceived "joy" into other  people. Now, this wasn't part of the sermon, but I began to realize that the pedestal that we place people on in our lives is sometimes undeserved, but in many cases, unwanted.  When you elevate humans to a level above human in your life, you essential place the burden of YOUR happiness on THEIR shoulders.  Granted, people should not try to hurt others in life, and making loved ones happy is something we all should want to do. But if we allow someone else to define so much of our happiness, we are asking them to fulfill a job to which they may not be equipped.

Sidenote: Now before I get jumped on, I am not saying that we shouldn't have expectations, nor should we communicate our desires and wants in relationships with family/friends/mates/etc.  But what I am saying is that we can't let something as personal as our happiness be dictated by whether or not those people are doing what WE want them to do or if they are in the constraints of what WE need for happiness.  Our happiness should be invested into something a bit more foolproof than human nature.

This all hit me like a ton of bricks...a ton of enlightening, insightful bricks.(And all in under 20 minutes. Take that, COGIC church.)


Seeking Joy

From here, my goal is to seek joy...that is, to seek the peace and happiness that comes from understanding myself, my faith, and my spirituality rather than the happiness that comes from the things and people of this world.  How to do that?  Well, that is going to take some soul searching, since it is only Tuesday and the message was given Sunday.  But I do know that from this point on, I will try my best to delve deeper into the things that are of substance in my life and that are meant to provide joy.  It will be a long road, but I am glad that I am finding this out at at the age of 29 instead of 79.

Happiness is fleeting, but joy is long lasting.  I hope that you and I both can find that joy that will provide us the longstanding happiness we all deserve.

The 7 D.E.P. Chronicles: Coming Through in the Clutch

*Juke walks to the jukebox, and selects a classic R&B jam...What's On Tonite by Montell Jordan.*

One of the things that I can truly say about my LBs is that we always supported each other in almost any and every endeavor imaginable...even if it wasn't the most honest endeavor possible.  This brief statement sets up the not-so-innocent encounters that will be discussed below. Once again, aliases will be used to avoid incriminating the guilty. *Awkward silence*

So in undergrad, our chapter had two houses: an official fraternity house where we would have events and brotherly functions...and an unofficial frat house that was for special purposes.  And by special purposes, I mean dates.  As it turned out, around the time that we were moving into the official frat house, Black Ice (my LB) was assisting his older brother (henceforth designated as Chevrolet Jenkins, or CJ) move into a brand spanking new crib of his own, which I often call the Hoodrich Hideaway.  This crib was laid too...big screen TV in the den with 2487 channels (of which 4 of them were porn channels), soft couches, playstations, weight lifting gear, four brands of condoms, a kitchen that was ALWAYS STOCKED with chicken and liquor, and most of all...a surround sound system that would rival any concert hall or venue.  In short, this was the ultimate bachelor pad, and made a great place for those "Let's chill" dates that undergraduates seem to go on nowadays.

*PAUSE*

Sidenote: At what point did we, as a people, decide that "chilling" was a viable dating activity?  I mean, at the time, I guess it was economically feasible, but I still hear about dudes 30+ still asking girls out on dates to just "chill."   Just curious...

*PLAY*

Chevy and I ended up being close like brothers as well, since we often chatted and hung out at the Hoodrich Hideaway. So for a few months in the fall of 2002, he would loan me the key to go to the crib whenever I had a date but lacked the funds to go out to the movies and such.  It was a great set-up, and honestly, since it was free, it really was a benefit to the strengthening of those undergrad dating relationships. (Think about it like this...now, money was never an excuse for not being able to show your lady a good time.)

Well, as Christmas rolled around in 2002, the most miraculous thing happened.  In a ritual that is only rivaled by the Skull and Bones, I was entrusted with the most precious of all prizes...my very own key to the crib. It was as if the clouds in the sky parted and the heavens had descended on my very flesh. This was a monumental moment, and one that I can remember as if it was yesterday.  To this day, I count that as one of the top three gifts I have ever received on earth, with the gift of life and the love of my parents being numbers 1 and 2.

Over the course of a few relationships, the HH became a mainstay in my repertoire of dating.  Most of the time, it was just to hang out and chill...maybe a little making out of sorts. (Okay, some DNA was left there, but hey, what's done is done...don't judge me.)  But there was one particular day that really stands out for me, and if it wasn't for the help of my LB Black Ice, I would have been left on stuck.

Let me paint a picture:  The young lady was one who commanded respect from all the brothas who knew her.  She was beautiful, smart, and most of all, a woman in every essence of the word.  All of this at the tender age of 21. (At that point, she was young enough to have faith in her standards.  I wonder if she is the same way now at 27. LOL).  So when she showed a little interest in me, I knew that I needed to step my game up a few notches.  But a brotha was short on funds...

This would take a little ingenuity.

So she and I talked on the phone, and she said that she would like to hang out with me.  She wanted to go out to eat so that we could chat and get to know each other.  Of course, financial aid hadn't dropped yet, so that was going to be a squeeze on the finances. My plot began to develop.

Anyone who knows me knows that my mouth often writes checks that my ass has to work double time to cash.  As she talks about the date, I instantly say ,"Why go out to eat when you can let me cook for you at my crib?"  Immediately, you should see two things wrong with this scenario: 1) I don't have my own crib, I just have a key to the HH, and 2) I can't boil water, let alone cook.  But when you are in the heat of the moment, you can't let little things like honesty stand in the way of a good date, right? *Awkward silence*

"So you know how to cook, eh?  I like a man in the kitchen."

"Well then, you are going to love me."

^^^Those words right there sealed my fate.

I set up the date for a day when Chevy would be at work so that I can give the impression that it is my house that we were in. (Now, granted, at 21 she probably should have asked more questions about how I could afford a house as a full time undergraduate student, but you know what?  We aren't going to worry about that right now...she bought it, and I kept it straight.)  I went over ahead of time to try and cook up something, but no one ever told me that you have to do stuff like clean the chicken, or grease the pans, or stir the Kool-aid.  In short, every attempt I made failed and I had only an hour and a half left before she was due to arrive.

Time to lean on the shield.

Black Ice, on the other hand, is a man with exquisite culinary skills.  If you name it, he can probably cook it.  I called up the big homie, and to my rescue he came.  That's what real brothas do...they support you in your recklessness. 

BI whipped up some of the best homemade lasagna that you could have ever imagined.  I mean, this was so good, it coulda been on the menu at Olive Garden.  By the time he finished saving my ass, the house was filled with the aroma of Italian herbs and spices.  But I didn't make him do ALL the work...I made the soda.

Finally, when everything was finished, he gave me a few instructions on how to serve the food, we shook hands, and he departed...five seconds before my date arrived.  Thanks to the help of my LB, the date was phenomenal, we really enjoyed each others company, and she and I had a romantic evening that ended with movies, cuddling, and an innocent sleep on the couch into the morning.

And in a week's time, the relationship was over.

This story is to serve multiple purposes.  First, it is my way of paying tribute to a fine institution, the Hoodrich Hideaway, and the history and legacy contained therein.  If I had my way, it would be on the registry of historical landmarks, but the government keeps denying my requests. (Something about "This nigga is trippin'" or something like that was said, but I can't quite remember.)  Many other stories could be discussed about the place, but this one is the one that sticks out for me.

Secondly, this story is to honor two noble and great gentlemen whose undying service to the community can be seen through the history of the HH.  Chevy Jenkins and Black Ice win the coveted "Come Thru In The Clutch" award for their diligence and promptness in ensuring that my dates went off without a hitch.  I am honored to have them on my team.

Lastly, ladies...if you don't see him cook the meal, then it doesn't count.  Since then, I have learned to cook a few items here and there, and I am upping my husband potential.  But there was a time where I talked a mean game, and Black Ice was there to back it up. 

Brothers...always coming through in the clutch.

*End Scene*