EXCERPTS FROM MY LIFE//2 BITCHES AT COOKOUT
Let me set the scene for you real quick. It is fall of 2011. My first year of college at UNCC, actually, my first semester to be exact. It may have been late September or early October. The nights were fairly warm, and at times a bit chilly. I didn’t have my car, therefore anywhere I wanted to go, I had to either walk, or take the bus. As a freshman on campus, a meal plan was mandatory. I loved having a meal plan, I had 400-500 dollars in declining balance and I had 10 meals per week at my choice of any of the cafeterias. Though 10 meals a week seemed a bit inadequate, believe it or not, I had excess meals that were never used most weeks. The dining hall nearest where I lived was decent. I got burgers all the time, nearly every time I went. I was real cool with the cook preparing the burgers. He was this tall black guy who had dreads that were always wrapped up and he would ask me how my day was going when we’d see each other. I know, seems courteous, but him and I had built up a rapport to where he always gave me extra fries and two burgers so I wouldn’t have to wait in line again. Such a good rapport that I saw him a few months ago at the newly-opened on campus Denny’s and he noticed me. I asked him how he remembered me, seeing as that was 4 years ago, and he said he remembers the good people. I found it incredibly humbling, not to mention pretty awesome. Back to the original story though, the only problem with this situation, was the dining halls closed at 8:30pm. That’s early, very early to me. One particular night though, I had missed the opportunity to eat at the dining halls. Upon this minor inconvenience, I called up one of my closest friends, Ahmed. He came over and we were debating different resolutions of how to handle the issue at hand. After 5-10 minutes of brainstorming, we agreed to go to Cookout. Cookout was across the street on the other side of campus. Remember, I didn’t have a car, and Ahmed didn’t as well. A mutual homie of ours, Malcolm, stayed in the adjacent dorm to mine, so we extended our invitation to him. I called him, and he told me that he was “down for the cause.” He met us in the courtyard that both of our dorms shared.
The walk to Cookout was fairly lengthy. It may have been a good 35-40 minutes from where we were located. Luckily for us, we took a campus shuttle to the edge of campus so we could walk to Cookout. After doing so, we finally get to Cookout. The night is fairly young from the perspective of a college freshman. It may have been 10:30pm or so. If anybody has been to the Cookout on North Tryon on a weekend night, you know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s hectic, it’s brazy, and it’s a vital part of any college student’s experience at UNCC. The smell of the burgers, the drunk frat boys wearing their hats backwards, the super long double drive thrus. The bruhs pulling up in their car with the subs jumping, the racers who have their cars so low that speed bumps become a thing of danger rather than of safety, just everybody is there. It’s a thing of beauty to be honest. Everyone goes to Cookout at night on the weekends. There are students coming back from the bars and the clubs, couples coming to eat after a fuck session, studious students that need some brain food, and then there was us: Ahmed, Malcolm, and I, three friends who were hungry and struggling.
We wait in line and get our food. It’s a bit before the rush, but it was still quite a lengthy wait. We get our food and we start heading back to campus. As we are walking thru the cars that are stuck at a standstill in the drive thru, Malcolm being Malcolm, dances his way through two cars and almost hits one. We all found it funny and kept walking. But then as we continued, somebody yells out to us. I forgot what they said, but eventually we ended up turning around and talking to them. It was two girls. This is where this gets weird. So they ask us where we were going, and we told them back to campus. They told us they could give us a ride, so all three of us squeezed in the back of their sedan. If I remember correctly, Malcolm was ironically in the middle.
They get their food and then we are off. I don’t recall much of what was said, but I do remember one of the girls introducing herself as Cynthia. As we leave Cookout, Cynthia’s friend drives past one of the school entrances. At this point, I’m thinking that maybe she is new to school as well and doesn’t know her way around, but whatever, she keeps going. She goes 2 or 3 stoplights out of the way in the opposite direction of the university. While all of this is happening, I’m looking at Ahmed giving him a silent gesture that’s pretty much saying “what the fuck?!” Malcolm is carrying the conversation between the two girls. Cynthia’s friend is not only driving in the wrong direction, but she is driving pretty fast from my optical observation. Eventually, she runs a red light. As soon as she runs a red light, a cop pulls her over. We pull over into some hotel parking lot. They’re both kind of intimidated and nervous at this point. The cop proceeds to come over and asks for her license and her registration. She obliges to his requests. Before he walks back to his car, he claims that he doesn’t give speeding tickets, but that running red lights were extremely dangerous. During the duration of time that the officer went back to his car, more than a few aggressive “what the fuck?!” and “I don’t know” gestures were silently exchanged in between a few laughs here and there between Ahmed and I. At one point though, Cynthia’s friend said, and I quote “This is what I get for trying to help 3 niggas out. Never again.” Immediately after that was said, I’m thinking to myself that we didn’t ask for anything, and that we could’ve been back by now! Soon after the officer comes back and hands Cynthia’s friend a ticket. The rest of the car ride back was much safer and completely silent. We get out the car and thank them once we arrive back at the dorms. We laugh about all the things that happened in the past hour or so, and Malcolm went back to his dorm. Ahmed and I went back to my room at Moore and we were joking about how most people try to beat yellow lights, but very few try to beat a red light once it is already red. Although it wouldn’t have made a difference either way, our food was dead cold. I was laughing while I was warming up my Cookout tray telling Ahmed that, “This is what I get for letting 2 bitches drive us back to campus.”
Smh. Good times.