Below The Fold

A number of years ago, Amy and I went bowling with a few friends. Monaco Lanes was a bit dodgy on occassion back then—nothing really seedy, but you’d get the wannabe gang-bangers with their playskool gats and freshly pressed do-rags drifting in and out. They were mostly kids from George Washington high school.

Anyway, after bowling, we walked next door to Denny’s and grabbed a bite with our friend Skid. That Denny’s was always a bit of an adventure, with a mix of hood rats, gang bangers, goth freaks or drunken night clubbers, depending on the time of day you were there.

Our meal passed uneventfully enough, and we paid our bill and left.

As we walked through the breezeway, we passed a trio of girls deep in the throes of ghetto fabulous thuggery. Gang colors, heavy makeup, fake nails, overalls, costume blingery—the works. One of them looked me and Amy up and down as she passed us and stated loudly, “Yo, it stinks up in here!” Obviously trying to cast an aspersion our direction.

Amy didn’t miss a beat. Without hesitating, she shot right back, “That must be your weave.”

I was flabbergasted. Utterly stunned. Skid, a very non-confrontational guy himself, blanched. As we continued out the door, all the gangstabitches did an about face and followed us out, hurling insults and readying themselves for a brawl.

Amy acted as though she couldn’t care less, and calmly strolled to the car while I did my best impression of a New York tough and convinced all three girls I was going to wipe the parking lot with them if they tried anything. Thankfully, they backed down and walked back inside, no doubt to discuss how delighted they would have been to possum stomp Amy had I not been there… never mind that I’m pretty sure Amy could have at least held her own with the three of them.

We all climbed into the car and Amy giggled a little and noticed Skid was a bit perturbed. She started to apologize for the confrontation and Skid, in his best, angry father voice turned to Amy and said, “I just can’t for the life of me figure out WHAT THE F**K POSESSED YOU TO DO THAT!!!?!?!”

It was one of the only times I’d ever heard Skid yell. Priceless.