A kind of long time ago I was a squid. I woke at reveille, I shit, showered, and shaved. I mustered on the hangar deck, I participated in sweepers. I assembled and transported explosives. I slept in a rack. That kind of thing. In military work everything required of me, someone told me to do. This was awesome. I am not the best decision maker, so not having to think for myself turned out to be everything I never knew I wanted.
The problems arose when I wasn't at work. I would end a shift, or we would pull into port for some R&R, and I would find myself staring around like a lost puppy with my wiener in my hand, without anyone to tell me what to do or how to do it. Sans orders, I knew I would rubber band back to my degenerate persona. Because it's all I knew, and they trained me to be a sailor, not a person.
Ok, let me use an example, how about Hong Kong?
The boat pulls up outside Victoria Harbor where from there we would be ferried in and released into the wild on the Kowloon side of the landmass. The powers that be suggested things for us to do. Go to a museum, take a tour, travel with a boat buddy so as not to be kidnapped and murdered.
While I appreciated the effort I felt all of that sounded gay, so what I did was snuck onto the ferry boat alone, traveled to Kowloon, converted some currency, hopped on the first mass transit system I could find going in a direction away from the boat, got dumped off at a place called Mong Kok, found what looked like a convenience store, bought a 40oz and a pack of smokes, and sat outside of that store drinking and smoking while congratulating myself.
I thought, I don't know the language, or where I am, or how to get back, and I'm scared, and cold, and everyone is looking at me like I am a werewolf, and I think the store clerks are calling the cops. But it doesn't matter. those sons of bitches suggested what to do... and I did something else. Fuck tha police. Imma do ME.
While I sat there considering next steps this kid approached me. A Chinese kid wearing a triple XL white tee under a black bubble goose jacket, Timberland boots, blue jeans, and a blue and white overlapped do-rag with long strings falling over the shoulders, as was the custom at the time. I was really into Mark Echo, so that was what I wore top to bottom. I don't know. Anyway, he walks right up to me, says what up, gives me dap, asks me what I'm doing out there. I say I'm chilling, because I was. Freezing.
So he's a rapper, and I really believed I was a rapper then, so we decided spit a few verses to each other then and there. We were both wack, but it didn't matter. Actually, truth be told MF Doom had recently released his classic album "Operation Doomsday" and I stole almost every bar I used in that session from that album thinking he couldn't possibly have heard it yet. I am so, so, sorry my dude. But hey, if you are gonna bite...
Alright, so with introductions out of the way he began showing me around. We got some dim sum and fish balls on Portland street, popped into Fa Yuen to cop some sneakers, he showed me where his dad worked on Sai Yeung Choi south. Said he works there too most days when not doing side-gigs for local "social clubs" in the area. I could respect that. And didn't press the issue.
He brought me to where his crew hung at an open area park outside a mall. About fourteen kids out there, trying their best to look hard. I swear it was home, just more asian people. Wait, no, with all the asian people it looked just like the Bay area. Only two spoke English including my sherpa, so we spoke hip hop instead. We smoked blunts (yeah I know I was in the Navy. Bad decision maker, remember?) They spit in Cantoneese, I spit in english. Same thing really. It was the elements in action, bonding atoms.
After that we headed to his sisters work. She was a stripper, or still is a stripper. I'm not sure. Ok, this I have to say, they dance different over Kowloon way. It's not even really dancing to my eyes, it's non-rhythmic gyrating. I'm not asking for, like, black church, or anything, They needed to step up the passion. It's an art form, people. Let's focus. Anyway, she was amazing. We got all hung out in a restaurant after her shift getting wasted with her co workers and she let me pass out on a mat in her super small apartment she shared with two other people including her two year old son. I didn't get any, rarely in any of my stories do I. Such is life. We kissed a little bit though. That was cool.
What was I talking about again? Ah right, bad decisions. This wasn't one of them. He and his homies gave me a ride back to the boat the next day twenty deep in four tuned cars rolling up to the ferry dock to where the rest of the squids got front row seats. Hugs from the girls and dap from the dudes. This is where his sister kissed me. Perfect timing. After that everyone begged to roll with me during port call, no dice, from then on I was addicted to solo adventure on my free time, blind obedience on the military's clock. Peanut butter and jelly. I still ping that kid from time to time, he has moved on to bigger things. But not bigger than hip hip, he's still there, as am I.
I hope information... Oh shit I didn't even talk about a video game, or the new year, or the awards, or... And there was so much more to this story... well shit, next time. Why am I telling this story anyway? Fr@ctl, are you still alive? Real question. Also JERBZ.
The Protoculture Mixtape v.10000 : Issue : Games : tchayng mun
