charlie sherrill
Member
The title is somewhat misleading, though it's not far off. "Do you want crack with that?" was for some reason the first thing I thought of when I saw him. And, it wasn't exactly in the hood although the hood apparently wasn't very far away. Jr. and I were in Mobile,Alabama today. It was noon and we were getting hungry. We were on Government St. in downtown Mobile. For those of you who have never been there Government St. is lined by old oak trees and beautiful old houses and mansions with spots of commerce in between. A new looking Mcdonald's was in one of these spots of commerce and we decided to eat there.
It was one of the cleanest and neatest McDonald's I've ever been in. The outside was neat and clean and tastefully landscaped. The inside was all tile and was spotless. Behind the counter was a tall,slim, gray haired black lady who appeared to be the manager. We made our order and while Jr. was in the restroom I picked it up and took it to our table. I got my drink and headed back to the table and as I sat down I saw him.
He stood about six feet tall on his hind legs. He had on dirty clothes to match his dirty dreadlocks. He showed symptoms of drug use highlighted by a severely runny nose. He was carrying some kind of backpack. I went into "cop mode" as I saw him headed toward the counter. I kind of halfway expected a robbery until he revealed his intentions and started intimidating the customers who were in line by demanding they give him money for food. His choice of words were definately something you wouldn't want your children to hear.
A black gentleman with what appeared to be five members of a baseball team shoved the kids into a booth, told them to shut up, and stood in front of them. His expression told Mr. Dreadlocks not to mess with him and he wisely started hassling some other folks. A white lady with three little girls gathered them up and left. By now the manager had seen what was going on and came from behind the counter by herself and told him he had to leave. He went into another profanity laced tirade and started marching around the inside of the restaurant screaming at the top of his lungs. His main complaint seemed to be it wasn't right for a black man to be thrown out of a black owned business.
The manager was not far from me as Mr. Dreadlocks had made another circle inside the place and came back to her with more profanity. She told him she had called the police to which he replied "Fxxx the police!" He stuck his hand in his pocket and I stood up and stuck my hand in mine. I wasn't going to let him hurt this lady. He looked at me and saw the badge on my ball cap, pulled his empty hand out of his pocket, walked out the door, got on a bicycle and left. Little did he know that the badge read "Brothel Inspector." I had picked it up at a gunshow in Louisville and stuck it on my cap. From now on I gotta be careful where I wear that thing.
Our meal was fairly uneventful after that except when we got ready to leave. Another bum had ridden up on a bicycle and came in and sat across from us and politely asker how we were. He then asked for a dollar so he could get something off the dollar menu. Jr. gave him one as we left. We got in the truck to leave and I saw another white bum headed toward the truck on his bicycle and I rolled the window up and locked the door. As we pulled out of the parking lot another one on a bike hinted he was going to block us. I hinted I was going to run over him and he moved.
As we pulled back onto the tree shaded street I began to notice these guys were all over the place and all of them had bikes and backpacks. Either they had stolen a lot of bikes or the Salvation Army had a surplus of them. It sure made them mobile. I looked back and saw the gray haired manager/owner lady walking around the restaurant. She was apparently trying to keep them away. She did a good job while we were there.
It was one of the cleanest and neatest McDonald's I've ever been in. The outside was neat and clean and tastefully landscaped. The inside was all tile and was spotless. Behind the counter was a tall,slim, gray haired black lady who appeared to be the manager. We made our order and while Jr. was in the restroom I picked it up and took it to our table. I got my drink and headed back to the table and as I sat down I saw him.
He stood about six feet tall on his hind legs. He had on dirty clothes to match his dirty dreadlocks. He showed symptoms of drug use highlighted by a severely runny nose. He was carrying some kind of backpack. I went into "cop mode" as I saw him headed toward the counter. I kind of halfway expected a robbery until he revealed his intentions and started intimidating the customers who were in line by demanding they give him money for food. His choice of words were definately something you wouldn't want your children to hear.
A black gentleman with what appeared to be five members of a baseball team shoved the kids into a booth, told them to shut up, and stood in front of them. His expression told Mr. Dreadlocks not to mess with him and he wisely started hassling some other folks. A white lady with three little girls gathered them up and left. By now the manager had seen what was going on and came from behind the counter by herself and told him he had to leave. He went into another profanity laced tirade and started marching around the inside of the restaurant screaming at the top of his lungs. His main complaint seemed to be it wasn't right for a black man to be thrown out of a black owned business.
The manager was not far from me as Mr. Dreadlocks had made another circle inside the place and came back to her with more profanity. She told him she had called the police to which he replied "Fxxx the police!" He stuck his hand in his pocket and I stood up and stuck my hand in mine. I wasn't going to let him hurt this lady. He looked at me and saw the badge on my ball cap, pulled his empty hand out of his pocket, walked out the door, got on a bicycle and left. Little did he know that the badge read "Brothel Inspector." I had picked it up at a gunshow in Louisville and stuck it on my cap. From now on I gotta be careful where I wear that thing.
Our meal was fairly uneventful after that except when we got ready to leave. Another bum had ridden up on a bicycle and came in and sat across from us and politely asker how we were. He then asked for a dollar so he could get something off the dollar menu. Jr. gave him one as we left. We got in the truck to leave and I saw another white bum headed toward the truck on his bicycle and I rolled the window up and locked the door. As we pulled out of the parking lot another one on a bike hinted he was going to block us. I hinted I was going to run over him and he moved.
As we pulled back onto the tree shaded street I began to notice these guys were all over the place and all of them had bikes and backpacks. Either they had stolen a lot of bikes or the Salvation Army had a surplus of them. It sure made them mobile. I looked back and saw the gray haired manager/owner lady walking around the restaurant. She was apparently trying to keep them away. She did a good job while we were there.
