So, I had to consciously refrain from laughing at the skinny, white, twentysomething Family Dollar employee, who - while stocking the dry goods aisle - was singing I'M A PLAYA, loudly, completely oblivious to customers. "Indeed you are," I thought with a smile, as I reached passed his shoulder for the Charmin. "You, my friend, are the angst of gangstas everywhere."
With each passing day I feel a little more out of place, here within the suburb of Aurora, Illinois. I've never considered myself to be a snob, but when I think about why I'm getting the itch to move, I freely admit that my motives are snobbish: I'm better than these people, and I'm tired of pretending I'm not.
(Smiling devilishly.)
With each passing day I feel a little more out of place, here within the suburb of Aurora, Illinois. I've never considered myself to be a snob, but when I think about why I'm getting the itch to move, I freely admit that my motives are snobbish: I'm better than these people, and I'm tired of pretending I'm not.
(Smiling devilishly.)
I'm better than the welfare mamas who buy lotto tickets at the liquor store at 10:30am, dragging along their kids. I'm better than the teenage drug dealers who talk loudly on cell phones, as they walk passed my house during school hours (and let their pit bulls shit in my yard). I'm better than the historical society biddies who write bylaws like a Scottsdale HOA, ignoring the fact that most residents - myself included - are under water with our mortgages. And I'm definitely better than the white folks who live on the city's far east side - snobs who claim to live in nearby Naperville, despite their Aurora zip code.
I suppose I am a snob to a point, but only because I prefer to wear pants above my ass. I'm definitely a snob when it comes to appearance: I'm showered, starched, and shaved whenever I leave the house...even when headed to ALDI. The only time I wear pajama bottoms outdoors is when I've forgotten to take the trash out at night, and have to run it out in the morning. Pajamas are for sleeping, not shopping...and house slippers should never leave the home. Unless you're on a gurney. Or running from a burglar wearing a "Jigsaw" mask.
I suppose I am a snob to a point, but only because I prefer to wear pants above my ass. I'm definitely a snob when it comes to appearance: I'm showered, starched, and shaved whenever I leave the house...even when headed to ALDI. The only time I wear pajama bottoms outdoors is when I've forgotten to take the trash out at night, and have to run it out in the morning. Pajamas are for sleeping, not shopping...and house slippers should never leave the home. Unless you're on a gurney. Or running from a burglar wearing a "Jigsaw" mask.
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Back in January, I was again walking to Family Dollar one evening when I noticed a crowd on the sidewalk just a few storefronts down. As I passed through their cloud of cigarette & marijuana smoke, I saw a shrine of candles, teddy bears, 7/Eleven roses, and open beer cans on the pavement: someone had died - shot, apparently - and the group was in mourning for both the loss of a loved one and a drug deal gone bad.
"Don't believe what they say in the paper," a young, stoned girl said when she saw me. "The police, they twisted this shit all around," she insisted, referring to the events behind what I could only assume was the death of her boyfriend (and emphasizing her statement by stamping out blunt). I told her I wouldn't, then pressed on to the store. But I Googled the incident as soon as I got home - A 22-year-old Aurora man was shot at least once in the bathroom at a restaurant in the 800 block of North Lake Street around 7:34 p.m. - and learned that the group was mourning a dude who got cornered in the crapper. I wondered if the victim had been taking a dump, or if his final location was the end result of a chase. Neither scenario was glamorous, and when my own demise comes, I hope it happens somewhere other than the toilet of a taco joint. A nice, clean hospital would be ideal, though as long as I'm at least dressed for ALDI, I'm open to other locations.
"Don't believe what they say in the paper," a young, stoned girl said when she saw me. "The police, they twisted this shit all around," she insisted, referring to the events behind what I could only assume was the death of her boyfriend (and emphasizing her statement by stamping out blunt). I told her I wouldn't, then pressed on to the store. But I Googled the incident as soon as I got home - A 22-year-old Aurora man was shot at least once in the bathroom at a restaurant in the 800 block of North Lake Street around 7:34 p.m. - and learned that the group was mourning a dude who got cornered in the crapper. I wondered if the victim had been taking a dump, or if his final location was the end result of a chase. Neither scenario was glamorous, and when my own demise comes, I hope it happens somewhere other than the toilet of a taco joint. A nice, clean hospital would be ideal, though as long as I'm at least dressed for ALDI, I'm open to other locations.
So long that I keep my attitude intact, I know that when my time comes, it will be far from an Aurora taco joint. Snobbery is armor - my shield against earning my own pile of candles, teddy bears, and cheap religious candles - and when God finally calls my number, I want it to happen someplace warm...far away from Aurora's Family Dollar.
But in the meantime, I am what I am...and I happily chuckle at the things I see around me. I walk a lot in my neighborhood, and I'm not afraid of the people I cross on the sidewalk. And though I might not speak up when you sing "I'm a play'a" as I'm shopping, be aware that I'm watching...and I will write about you later!
You look...ridiculous!
But in the meantime, I am what I am...and I happily chuckle at the things I see around me. I walk a lot in my neighborhood, and I'm not afraid of the people I cross on the sidewalk. And though I might not speak up when you sing "I'm a play'a" as I'm shopping, be aware that I'm watching...and I will write about you later!
You look...ridiculous!