I'm going to get myself killed

I’m not suicidal or anything.  I just tend to forget to protect myself.  I don’t even get scared when things get real.  I remember distinctly the first time I saw someone try to kill someone else.

Me and the boys were partaking in our favorite pastime; playing football in the street.  It was around the time we were all in middle school so I was around 12 years old.  I had probably just passed the 100 lbs. mark.  It was like any other afternoon in the summer but suddenly some man came running up the street.  Something was off about him.  He was running too hard.  He wasn’t even running that fast but you could tell he was trying his heart out.  Just as he was turning the corner at the end of the block, we found out why.  Another man came up the hill behind us as we watched the running man go.  He wasn’t running either.  He had more of a brisk walk.  When he got far enough over the slope of the hill he raised his right arm, took aim and fired three shots while he was still walking forward.  No warning, no words at all.  Just, BANG, BANG, BANG!

My homeboys scattered after the first shot.  One ran under a nearby car.  Two more kept running until they were hiding in the back yard.  What did I do?  I stood there and watched.  After a few moments a truck came up the hill behind the shooter.  He hopped in the passenger side and they mashed out. 

My friends decided to come out of their various hiding places and the lady whose house we always played in front of sent us all home to check in with our parents.  Our block is relatively quiet.  No doubt everyone heard the shots and our parents were surely scared for our safety.  When I got home, which was maybe 5 houses away, one of the neighbors was already on her porch, waiting for her sons to return.

My mother was glad to see me come through the door.  She wanted to know what happened and I told her what I knew.  What I left out was that I never made it out of the street.  I wasn’t petrified.  I just wanted to see what happened next.  Even as the truck came up the street I just moved out the way and when it made the corner, I was listening intently for more gunshots.  When the dust settled, I wanted to play some more but after I made it home, it was clear that it would be no more football that day.

Fast forward to college and I still hadn’t learned anything about self preservation.  I was in the building at the first shooting at a campus party.  It was spring semester 2000 and Alpha Phi Alpha was throwing a jam at the Burge union.  Everybody was up in there and the DJ wasn’t even wack, which was a rarity at Alpha parties.  Now, I had had a few drinks.  I wasn’t full blown drunk but I was feeling good.  I wasn’t in my fraternity yet but being in a predominantly white school, enough of the black people knew me that I had plenty of people to talk to (and women to mingle with) so I was having a good time.  I was rolling with this cat from KCK that was friends with my girlfriend’s roommate.  He was playing semi-pro baseball so a lot of the local girls thought he was the man or some shit.  In hindsight, he was just another lame that didn’t have enough between the ears to make it big, but rolling with him that day, we all kinda felt like stars when we hit the party.  Everything was going well when suddenly there was a pop.  To me, it sounded like a light blowing.  There was a few seconds of uncertainty, then there was a couple people running, then there was a lot of people running then everybody was running. 

There are only two exits to the Burge Union basement.  One was up about 40 stairs, the other opened up right outside to a landing area.  Which one did people run toward?  You guessed it, the stairs.  Unfortunately I was standing right in front of the door that lead out of the party toward the stairs. 

I do have one excuse for not being afraid though, I didn’t think it was a gun shot.  I wasn’t even remotely alarmed.  I just stood aside as people stampeded the door.  After a few seconds, a few people had fallen and people were stepping on and over them to get out.  So, instead of watching this tragedy take place, I stepped in to start calming people down.  I remember one particularly fine group of women running toward me.  I held out my arms and simply said “Calm Down”.  The crazy thing was that they actually did!  So did the people behind them.  It gave them time to notice that there were people stacked up at the door and several people laying on the ground.  I directed them toward the door behind them and the space eventually emptied out.  I was one of the last people to leave.  On my way to the door, I had one of the funniest thoughts that I’ve ever had, “Maybe I’m shot and I’m actually in shock.”  Like I said, I had a drink or two.  After a quick self pat down I proceeded to the parking lot where my poor girlfriend was damn near hysterical because she couldn’t find me.  I just walked up all calm and one of her friends was like “Oh my God.  We thought you were dead!”  I was like “Why?”

It turns out somebody actually did get shot in the leg.  Most people got hurt from the mad dash up the stairs and out of the door.  One of my oldest friends got trampled.  He wasn’t hurt but his pants got torn and he got a little roughed up.  He was a Kappa and considered himself all “GQ” so I had a good time laughing at him. I think I still have pictures.

That winter there was another party at one of my friend’s house.  Once again I was getting faded.  I was with two of my home girls (Yes I still use the phrases ‘home girl’ and ‘home boy’).  They are/were two sexy brown things and I was delighted to be out with them.  Anyway, this was a house party, a pretty intimate setting.  People were sitting around and talking, there was hardly any music to speak of but we were all having an alcohol induced good time.  Suddenly a fight breaks out on the couch.  To make it worse, it’s three on one.  My boy is a big dude and I had recently discovered the weight room so we moved to sort this shit out.  It always amazes me how easily I can break up a fight.  I grabbed a guy by the back of his shirt and instead of fighting me off, he just looked at me and stopped.  My boy informed the combatants that they have to take that shit outside and they all simply got up and headed for the door.  The poor kid (He was maybe 3 years younger than me) that was being jumped had a huge gash over his eye.  He was going outside to continue the fight but I pulled him aside.  I was wearing hospital scrubs so maybe people actually thought I was a doctor, hell if I know.  I pulled him into the restroom to look at that eye, like I actually knew what I was doing.  It was clear that the bleeding wasn’t about to stop, this kid needed to hit the hospital and soon.  I was holding the cut closed and one of my lovely nurses brought me a towel to help clean up the wound.  Meanwhile, out in the front yard, my boy and some of his friends were getting rid of the riff raff that interrupted the party.  Suddenly one of the riff raff pulls a gun.  He asked if one of the guys wants to take one in the chest and spits in one of their faces.  I assume the rest of his crew realized that shit had gone too far and they quickly made it to their vehicle without further incident.  That is until they decided to start shooting in the air as they drove down the street.  Somehow those idiots managed to hit a tree.

The police showed up and eventually tracked the guys down after they fled their wrecked vehicle.  The kid with the cut eye was still inside.  I offered to pull his car around so he wouldn’t have to walk around with those guys still outside and he gratefully handed me his keys.  When I left the bathroom, everyone was piled up in the bedroom.  I took that opportunity to get me another round of punch, fuck it, no line right?  After acquiring my beverage, I enquired as to why 30 people were in a back bedroom.  Somebody said “Their shooting outside!”  What did I do? I went outside of course.  On my way to get homeboy’s car, I ran into the coolest police officer in history.  He asked me for I.D. and I didn’t even have any.  I was clearly about to get into a car to drive with a drink still in my hand.  I even admitted that it wasn’t my car.  He must have been busy looking for the assailants because when I asked him if I could go, he replied “Go ahead!”

The cops caught the guys a little later.  As far as I know, the kid made it to the hospital.  My two brown beautiful friends looked at me with an admiration I haven’t seen since for the rest of the night, even after my homeboy related the story of having a gun pulled on him while I was playing doctor.  Of the times I’ve failed to avoid danger, I think I remember this one the fondest.

What have we learned?  My self preservation mechanism just doesn’t work.  I don’t know why.  It just never kicks in until after things have quieted.  Secondly, people need to inform me when there is a gun in the room because I will inadvertently put myself in harm’s way.  I tend to think as long as you’re not shooting at me it is all good.  Lastly, if there are beautiful women that look at me admirably afterwards, I won’t regret anything.