You must first read Hammer Time, then Tater Tots and Windmills, in order for this story to make any sense.
Neither of us was at fault, but I still felt bad about shoving her in the trunk and covering her up with sleeping bags. But, my only other choices were to put her in a sleeper hold or try that Vulcan pinch thing. She wasn’t upset about that because she knew I had to do what I had to do to protect her. However, she was still somewhat spooked about all those little hands. I would be too.
After a couple of weeks we finally got past just talking on the phone and met up for a beer at Donegal’s, where I told her I had a couple of tickets for a lake cruise and I wanted her to join me. After all, the only music onboard would be some guy playing an acoustic guitar. So, we went and everything was fantastic. We had a great dinner, a few drinks and met some really nice people who invited us to join them for a few more drinks at Kitty O’Shea’s. It went well enough that she got that look in hers eyes and we decided to head back to her place.
Soooo, we’re standing at the Adams St. subway platform, minding our own business, along with a hundred or so other people, when some guys start up with the bucket drumming. Now while many of my friends love the music, I just can’t take it. For those of you who have never witnessed it, these guys play a beat that makes you want to chase a deer through the woods like a cave man.
Anyway, we’re standing on the rubber warning track when it started, so we had virtually nowhere to go but onto the tracks or through the crowd. Plus, I knew we only had a few seconds before our blood was flush with funk. So, I grabbed Heidi’s hand, dropped my shoulder and drove through the crowd like it was 4th and 1. After a few feet, I realized others were doing the same. In fact, as soon as I would gain a foot towards one exit, someone else would shove me back towards the other exit. WTF?
I looked at a guy and his friends going for the first down on my right, and they had the same desperate look on their face as us. But… they were latino? Well, technically, I suppose they could be snowflakes too. I took command and told him that we should work together and get the hell out of Dodge. We drove about six feet, when a young black woman grabbed my left arm and screamed “Please help us get out of here, I don’t think he can last much longer!” I looked at her, then at her boyfriend and shot her a look of “you gotta be kidding me”, because he was a black guy. A black snowflake? Noooooo. She looked at me with tears swelling in her eyes and said, “He’s from Naperville”. Oh, okay, that explains it.
My grandmother Mimi told me as a child that someday I would be called upon to lead people and I was sure this was that day. I took a deep breath, looked them in the eyes and told them that no matter what, we will survive. And, of course, I should have waited two more seconds to make such a statement, because just as I did, I heard a commotion and saw what looked like three busloads of people tromping down the both exits, creating a backlog we could never break through in time.
Defeat was imminent and we all knew it. I stood and looked into Heidi’s eyes and started to apologize, when that old bass guitar player that can’t sing a tune started playing Atomic Dog. All of us, every snowflake, stood and prepared ourselves for what we had feared every waking moment.
My new latino-snowflake friend calmly reached into his cargo shorts, pulled out a pack of Reds and lit one with a look of defiance that would have made Poncho Villa proud. He offered me one, but I wanted to spend my last virgin moments stretching, so’s I wouldn’t pull a hammy.
Then, as suddenly as the music began not thirty seconds earlier, the funk hit us like a mudslide. BAM! Poncho dropped to the deck and was performing the most perfect Worm moves this world has ever seen, while his friends broke out an old Boys To Men Cooleyhighharmony routine. They’d must’ve silently practiced the choreography in their basements for years, bless their hearts. They were going out in style baby!
Lucy Lui and Carlton Banks brought a tear to my eye as they pumped out their best lil’ Kim and Vanilla Ice. Carlton threw his hands in the air, like he just didn’t care and lil Kim had torn off her shirt and was grinding some poor old white dude (and her soon-to-be -suga-daddy). Go Kim, Go!
I was finishing up my fourth or fifth Fila kick, when I saw Heidi getting dry-humped by a high school kid. Man, the look on his face, he looked like he’d hit the Lotto. Oh yeah, he hit the Lotto all right. He had kept his composure as well as any teenager could, but I thought the poor kid was going to swallow his tongue when Heidi slumped to the floor and did the splits.
Time suddenly started to slow to a crawl as we pumped, jumped, spun around, etc. This was our time to celebrate our newfound, albeit potentially lethal, freedom. This was our defining moment and there was nothing anyone or anything could do to stop us. Again, I should have waited two more seconds to make such a statement.
According to taser.com, “The Drive Stun causes significant localized pain in the area touched by the Taser, but does not have a significant effect on the central nervous system. The Drive Stun does not incapacitate a subject but may assist in taking a subject into custody.”
Sure, if you consider waking up on the floor of a police cruiser with a bloody mouth, broken collarbone and a concussion, not incapacitated. Evidently, I had kicked somebody onto the tracks as I was doing a back flip, then struck a cop as I threw my hand out to start the Sprinkler, and had ignored another cops repeated commands to “freeze”. Okay, first of all, as far as I knew, I was parading down the dance line and listening to Don Cornelius cheer me on. Secondly, that cop was a hater. The only reason he tasered me was because I had moves he never dreamed of, plain and simple