Seven Red

So I posted the following cryptic message on my buddy Joe’s facebook wall:

“MEDIC!!! MEDIC!!! I’m hit!!!”

I knew he’d know what I was talking about, and he’d get a kick out of it. He replied with the following email, which is, in my view, a perfect retelling of events. I’ll leave it without comment:

October 31,1991, I had just finished fixing the brakes on my car and now was making my way to 146th street and Willets [Point Boulevard] to pick up some friends to hang out for Halloween. This was to be the first all hallows eve of my life without the joy of filling a backpack with shaving cream and eggs for a night of innocent ultraviolence.This might have been because we spent most of the summer dodging bottles, pepper spray and the occasional stolen car. The obvious plan for the night was to get fourties, some weed and perhaps some nitrous oxide from the “Happy Iraqis” on Northern Boulevard and cruise around Whitestone. The crew that night I believe were Patty S., Mike T., topspun and myself. Perhaps not using the best judgment topspun came out that night wearing a brand new flight jacket and an extremely rare Negro League fitted Baltimore Black Sox hat. To watch the four of us examining the cap was to be likened to the scene in American Psycho where the twentysomthing yuppies compare and envy each others business cards. The hat was that Dope. With the possibility of being struck by some form of Halloween ordnance topspun took the back seat of my 1985 Monte Carlo SS right behind the driver seat. We came upon some kids covered in Barbassol and realized by there curves that they were female and decided to turn around and get a better look. I remember not considering this as a threat due to obvious gender misconceptions, but a single Grade AA jumbo egg came through a three inch opening in the window whistling past my left ear and blasting topspun in the face, spraying egg all over his jacket and hat. Enraged and stunned of the hail mary quality throw all he could yell was “I’m hit,I’m hit medic”.

I find myself now trick or treating with my five year old nephew looking over my shoulder for stray eggs wondering if my friend topspun hundreds of miles away is recalling the same memory. I get an alert on my cell phone that topspun wrote on my Facebook wall “I’m hit,I’m hit medic” and I cant help but smile and actually well up close to tears.

New York, early 90′s. Ahhhh. Miss my guys, for sure.

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