In My Defense

(Physical violence, racist attitudes)

So, it all started when we was coming back. Janie just loves Bald Head, so we go there every year. 

Getting to Bald Head is a journey and a half. The drive is eight hours, minimum, and that assumes the traffic in Richmond is only normally horrible, not worse. 

And then there’s the ferry, which requires unloading at Southport and then finding the coolers, luggage, boogy boards and all manner of other items essential for the beach on the other side, which for some includes their pooches, but they just come on board.

One lady with her wide brimmed hat and a spaniel said, “We started coming here thirty years ago. It's sure more crowded than it used to be, but, far as I’m concerned, still the best thing going.”

Sea grass dunes line the beaches, assuming the hurricanes weren’t too bad the year before, and even then, the owners build them back up, just as they do their houses. 

We rent, of course. If we owned, then I suppose we'd have all that gear there already, but why buy if the place is going into the drink eventually, anyway?

Once you’re there, it’s hard not to think it really is the best thing going, that is if "low density" is what you prefer. Virginia Beach, the Jersey shore and all places in between stack ’em in like so much cordwood, and as far as traffic goes, might as well be in New York City. Not for me thanks. 

On the island, traffic is golf carts, and you have the beach to yourself long as you can stand your family. 

At the end of the stay, Janie always says to me, “I love it here. I wish we could stay here forever.” 

Time was, I would tell her, “Somebody’s got to pay for it,” but I learned. Now I just say, “Me too, Sweetie.”

Turns out, the best thing about staying there forever is avoiding the drive home. 

This year, we caravanned down, stopped to get Carolina barbecue, all vinegary, not my favorite, truth be told, but by the time we stop, I’m hungry enough, I suppose cardboard might do. 

So, there I am waiting for everyone, me and Sonny and a carful of what didn’t fit in the other two, and I’m waiting. I call and there’s no answer. I text and get no reply, so I call again. 

By the time we finally are pulling away from Southport, having battled the man taking two spaces with his Escalade and the other with an RV blocking everyone on one side, not to mention the floodwater that kept me on high ground, I was itching to drive at a reasonable speed, meaning a good thirty miles over the speed limit.

But there I am, bringing up the rear, ‘cause wolves or bears or some godforsaken wild animal does it that way. Meaning “leads from behind.”

In my book, you lead from the front, better keep up, and God help you if you’re in the left lane and not passing, better get out of the way. I will come up behind you and flash my lights 'til you do get over, and if that don't work, then the horn might do. I used to joke that I'm that tiny dot in your rear view mirror that gets real big real quick. No punchline to it, but I thought it was funny. Maybe 'cause I knew what it was like the time I was on the Autostrada and a Maserati came up and passed me like I was standing still. And I was going 120, which is two hundred over there.

I can take about twenty miles at fifty-five before I decide to just blow by everyone, not just John, right in front of me, who has half the crew, but also Janie, who was actually leading and probably having a great time talking to Paige and listening to music as she ambled along at the speed limit. No thank you!

So there I go, and I can tell it’s going to be a problem, ‘cause she starts calling me. Next thing I know, we’re stopped at a Wendy’s, and all I want is some food and then to get back on the road, frictionless, you know?

But no, everyone has to pile into the Wendy’s and now I’m buying lunch for ten, and I just can’t take it nomore. So I leave again. And this time no one’s calling me. 

‘Course nobody gives a flip that after we rendezvous, I’m not done! I still have to drive to Pennsylvania and then to New York the next day, ‘cause I’m trying to save my company. You know, lenders and investors, and all that.

Some people might think I live high on the hog, but, truth be told, I’m flat broke. That’s what happens when you get divorced and you’re the man. No house, no nothin’, and all you got are the bills and alimony, child support, and so on.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love my kids, and I done taken care of them, best I could. Granted, when they didn’t pay attention, or give proper respect, then I let them know it. But I know that they knew that I loved them. Even after that time I threw George’s phone on the ground and stomped it into pieces, ‘cause he ain’t listened. Like I said to him then, the reason he had a phone was to answer it when I called. Well, when he fell short, there was consequences.

Anyway, I was driving north, continuing on my way, and I said to Sonny, so, what gives? Why is it always this way with me?

And you know what Sonny done told me? He said, Pop, it ain’t always pretty, but you always get it done. And I think you would have to admit, that’s what I done here.

As I was saying, that’s what he told me, and I respect that. And it made me cry. ‘Course, I didn’t let no one see that I was crying, ‘cause I was driving all by my lonesome to the reckoning that was ‘bout to happen in this here modern day Thessaly we call New York City. Greatest city in the world, my ass!

Now I will say this. New Yorkers got a lot nicer right after nine eleven. It humbled them proper, and when you went up to look at the steaming pile of world trade one and two even six weeks later it was still smoldering. Before that, like the time I went up in ninety-nine, I was like, what am I, chopped liver?

Anyhow, I get all the way up there to Pee-A, and then, finally, to New York, and of course it being August, it ain’t any less humid up in New York than it was down in Bald Head, or, for that matter, anywhere in between, and there I am, on the fiftieth floor of the umptity ump building, where the Sinai folk rule, if you know what I’m sayin’, and I’m sweatin’ like a whore in church and a stuck pig all at once, and, David, cause there’s always a David, comes in, after makin’ me wait, which, truth be told was not my favorite, ‘cause he’s trying to gain the upper hand, but it also gave me a chance to towel off, even if it was with paper so I didn’t seem like such a bumpkin or a nervous Nellie, and, in any case, he comes in and is being all genteel and such, but then, when it comes down to nut cutting, he shows up with a machete and tries to chop my, excuse me, balls off.

So, being properly raised as I was, I don’t make nothin’ of it, and I just tell him, well, if that’s how you feel about it. And then he says to me, if you can believe this, well, Mack, how do you feel about it?

And I says to him, that’s none of your business. I ain’t got to tell him how I feel about nothing. Hell, I ain’t sure I got any feelings left. You want to hurt my feelings, well then punch me in the face, and if it hurt, you’ll know. “Course none of them folk was raised that way, and so they don’t do much punching, and if they did, someone would be calling the cops and you’d be up on assault and battery charges or some such, but that is part of the problem with society nowadays. I mean, if you wanted to get it right, then get it right, like I did, but don’t tell me about your feelings, and, sure as shinola, do not be asking me about mine!

Nevertheless, I had to get out of that place before I told him how I really feel, and I went down all fifty floors on one o’ them ain’t got no buttons inside elevators, security and all, and I was thinking, y’all ain’t as secure as you think.

Why not you ask? Well, I’ll tell you, and it ain’t just one reason.

A, no one even knew what I had packed inside my right cowboy boot, but let’s just say it equals nine times five.

Bee, I know for a fact, that none of those city folk was packing any heat at all, ‘cause the whole state done already given up their second amendment right, and

See, those so-called security guards, almost all of which, all due respect, is colored folk I might add, know how to do one thing: Take your license to make sure you’s telling them your name, and then make a phone call to order the right elevator for you, ‘cause as I said before, there ain’t no buttons to push any more.

Plus, they ain’t exactly fit, and I’m tellin’ you, I know plenty of fat Bubbas down where I come from, but they could still flatten you in a heartbeat. If that didn’t work, the Bubbas I know def’ly had their nine times fives on them. I’m speaking in code ‘cause I know that this conversation is being recorded by some agent of the federal giverment. No that’s not a typo. I call them the giverment, ‘cause that is all they do. Give away money. My money, and if you pay taxes, your money, to them folk who ain’t got no job, ain’t created no jobs, and ain’t never gonna have no job. You know who I mean.

Anyhoo, (again not a typo, just how I talk), after I get back down to street level having said good bye and good riddance to David (he knows who he is, and so do you, don’t pretend), the next thing I know is I’m gonna be late, only this time, my meeting is with Mr. Rajeev VerylonglastnamethatIcannotpronounce thank you very much. So I decide I better get one of them yellow cabs runnin’ all around the city like hornets after you kicked the nest, and, let me tell, it ain’t easy!

Finally, after I had my hand up so long I felt like a foot soldier in the Third Reich, I got one of these replanted camel jockeys to stop and when I told him the address, it wasn’t even clear to me that he spoke English, or American, for that matter, which is the dialect I acknowledge is mine. I certainly ain’t speakin’ the Queen’s English, or the King’s now, I guess, but ain’t that why the founding fathers fought the war in the first place? I ain’t no one’s subject, and neither are you!

So I just have to resort to sign language and finally point to my phone. Somehow, they all seem to know how to talk phone. Maybe that’s ‘cause Steve Jobs was one of them to start. I bet you didn’t know that. Yeah, he was Iranian. Proper name for it is Persian actually.

No how, I get to my meeting with Rajeev Whatsyourlonglastname and he treats me like I ain’t deserved to be treated, either, tellin’ me my business is worth less than David said, so I did the trick I used when I couldn't take my in-laws no more, and I said, where’s the head, like I was going to take a piss, but then he didn’t even know what I was saying, and he brings in the head of his firm. Which, of course, is another David. You can’t make this stuff up.

At which point, I turned on my innate charm, and I ain’t no snake charmer, but no doubt Rajeev’s people were, and David says to me, let’s all go to have a drink. At this point, I was more thirsty than bladder filled, so it was like he saw right through me, and I said, if you’re buyin’ then I’ll keep tryin’, which made him laugh.

Turns out, Rajeev don’t drink, and this David is Greek, not Sinai, so to speak, so he orders a round of Ouzo, which is like licorice flavored moonshine from what I can tell. We always used to say, drink whisky, it’ll put hair on your chest. And don’t drink moonshine, ‘cause it’ll make you blind. Well, I’ll tell you what, Ouzo’ll take the hair off your chest, and, though it don’t make you blind, by the end of that night, I shore couldn’t see straight.

And so maybe, that’s why I missed, ‘cause usually, I’m a pretty good shot, but instead of getting that shoplifter I saw running out of the store, like I meant to, and all I was trying to do was stop him like my Pappy taught me: just a round to the wheel, and you’ll stop the steal, Wheels is what Pappy called feet.

Instead, I guess I aimed high, and I got him in the thigh.

Now, Pappy always thought I’d make a good doc, though it wasn’t in my stock. But this much I know, and I ain’t tryin’ to crow: If you hit that main artery, then the blood begins to flow.

So you see, counselor, that’s what happened. That’s how it went down. But I wish you wouldn’t frown, ‘cause this man, he ran around town, just taking what he wanted.

And, can you believe what that officer said to me?

You ain’t gonna believe it.

Nah, you ain’t.

Want me to tell you?

He said, “You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you,” like I was some kind of common criminal. All due respect to all y’all. I do appreciate you listening.

So there you, go, that’s how I ended up in the slammer talking to you. Makes no sense if you ask me. Not a crime in my book. He was the one committing the crime.