east harlem memories part 1

so being that i'm moving in a couple weeks to williamsburg, i decided to start getting a little nostalgic and capturing little verbal vignettes of the things that made me smile in my five year stay in the now overwrought with gentrification neighborhood. from scaffolding up and scaffolding down, i've witnessed many a change in this place i will soon not call home. i never really had too much of a fear living in this hood, even though when i first moved here i was one of the few people with white skin. hell i grew up near newark, nj and went to rutgers university in newark (albeit for only a year) but black folk have always been a constant in my life and although my family definitely had some strong racist overtones, i managed to slip free from that prejudice. i'm definitely not afraid of someone because of the colour of their skin, i'm afraid of everyone i walk past late at night on a dark street hehe. luckily, since i was a child, i've always had the power of turning my fears into some fantastic story in my head to keep me occupied as i walked past an ominous stranger. the streets of the east village late at night are much seedier than the two block walk from the train to the brownstone i live in now.
but let's get to what sparked this little series of stories. east harlem is definitely ruled by the fast food restaurant. from popeyes, to mc donalds, to dozens of chinese take out restaurants, to burger king to soul food chains and right down to taco bell/pizza hut multiplexes. the taco bell is what urged me to start writing. first of all, the place is run by indians or pakistanis (one can never assume in this current day and age). they probably wince everytime they scoop a big chunk of cow meat onto a tortilla right? (ooh gonna go to hell for that one) the funniest thing about the place is that after you order and get your giant drink, when you reach for a giant straw, the giant straws are kept in a wild turkey promotional clear plastic ice bucket? how the hell did that get there and why the hell have they been using that same bucket for five years to hold straws? was it left there from the previous owners and they just decided to keep it? are they unaware that wild turkey is an alcoholic beverage? indians don't drink right? i dunno but it's always been a little quirky thing that i've noticed every time i've given in to the temptation i last was addicted to during my brief stint at college. i'm sure the mystery will never be solved for me but it's just one of the things that will always make me giggle when i think of east harlem.

thanks for listening,

chauncey d