Small World, Big Stories

“Hey man listen. The world is a small place, bruh. 

 I’ll tell you how I know that the world is a very small place. 

Okay, I had bought this house from the City of New Orleans. It was a Mardi Gras house, meaning that it was a house that was on the parade route, that had been condemned for some reason.
The city of New Orleans did not want any condemned houses on the parade routes it would be an eyesore, not good for tourism. So what the city did was paint those houses in Mardi Gras colors, I don’t know how that made the condemned houses look any better but I wasn't the mayor. 

So the city would sell you those houses really cheaply with the contractual agreement that you would bring the house up to code. Simple right?
Being a bright and industrious young man, I decided to buy a Mardi Gras house. Truth be told I was scared shitless. I didn’t know what I was walking into, I like gators man, you can’t just walk into anything in Gators.”

The Mississippi Red clay-colored man held up 1 finger.
The barber leaned back.
Bending his back at an angle that hurt mine it seemed as if he were exaggerating, making certain his tools weren’t anywhere near the silver-haired, tongued, and bearded gentleman in his chair.
It was clearly a long-standing relationship, and the barber’s reverent demeanor let me know the man was important.
“Anyway.” The stylish older man continued, having stood and leaned backward until a loud series of cracks and pops echoed through the stylish but typically appointed) barbershop memorabilia. Followed by a satisfied sounding grunt/purr/growl. 

He returned to the barber’s chair and rocked to make himself comfortable.
“I basically stole this house from The City! Farley, eight grand. That’s all I paid. Say bruh, eight thousand dollars. I know it's some money but in the grand scheme of things that really anit no money. Besides, I was young and I had plenty money but didn’t have a lick of sense.
I picked out my house. When I tell you I got lucky I got lucky. The house that I bought for $8,000 was condemned because it had faulty electrical wiring. That was the only upgrade the house required. I got this girl I used to kick-it with's, husband to rewire the house.”
His barber stopped trimming the salt and pepper waves, laughed aloud and pointed to him with a comb.

“You hell unk! You Hell.” 

The Gent used the opportunity to move in the chair again his back and/or lower extremities in apparent distress. It was undetectable in his Rich baritone when he continued.
“Yeah me and buddy were cool. He  was a solid dude. All I had to do was supply the Romex, outlets, switches, beer, and the crawfish.
Now back then you could go get shrimp, crabs, and crawfish straight off the boat. I got like 50 or 100 lbs, and a case of beer. I purge the crawfish, ice the beer you know, the important stuff.
Then I went to the hardware store, it wasn’t like it is now Home Depot runs everything, there were Corner hardware stores. 

I went to the hardware store and I grabbed the stuff I needed.

 While I was doing that I had a garbage can full of crawfish in salt water, and another full of beer on ice.
Was kind of in a hurry but I saw how fine the cashier was at the other register so I went and stood in her line.
It was Crystal clear, I was there for her. I wanted it to be.
She was my kind brother.” The finger went up again and the well dressed older man bought a coke from the hustler in the corner. He took a gulp poured an airplane shot into the can.
The barber waited patiently with his wrists crossed.
The can turned towards the ceiling and the story weaver let out an ahh!
“Like I say the world is small.”
I see the reminiscence in his face.
“I started Macking to this girl.
She’s telling me she has this boyfriend, I told her to look here ma I buying this stuff for my house. She asks what I do. I told her and bragged about playing ball overseas. She tells me her boyfriend plays here in the U.S.  real professional, he plays in New York. He’s away for the season.” 

I’m engrossed in the story. Hinging on every word. 

“So she and I spent the entire season together!”

 His smile is quick and lights the room. I wonder if his teeth are fake, if so he spent a grip on them. I break my gaze from his face and I notice everyone in the room is smiling with him.
“Life happens. You get hit with a bat, you knock some people out, date some women, you know just life Shit.”

 It’s the first time I noticed a cuss word.
“One thing leads to another I find myself in New York. Bludfiya! It’s cold. My bad. Whenever I think about New York, I think about Jamaicans,  and Puerto Ricans, actually all the Islands women are found in abundance in New York! The dudes are there too.” He laughs. Begs his barber’s pardon.  Barber puts down the clippers. “Good ahead Mr. G. finish your story.” 

 I’m positive the pair have danced this dance before. He leans forward.
We all do.
“So I had just been at this really thick Jamaican girls house. Soon as she got done screaming ‘Bumbaklot’ she kicked me out. No big deal. I was young and I hit the bar like ‘round two' I know I was nasty. I’m sitting at the corner of the bar cause I don’t care. The corner of every bar is where I don’t care people sit.  Then they tell the bartender how much they don’t care all night long.
The bartender is bad! I wasn’t telling her any of my business but my address. We started chopping it up. She’s extra smart, we like a lot of the same stuff we laugh, a lot. She hears me using one too many yeah's or ‘hum bruh’s' and asks if I’m from New Orleans. I told her I wasn’t but I had lived there for a while.”

 Mr. Gee leans back into his seat.

 We mirror him.

 “Finally she gets around to telling me how her boyfriend is from New Orleans. Her boyfriend plays professional ball. There in New York, but he's home in New Orleans for the season. So she and I spent the season together. “ He pauses. “Yeah man, the world is small.”
He fell silent. Leaned back and let his barber give him a hot towel shave. 

I have been looking for him at the barbershop ever since.