After a continuous struggle and failure in Miami, I decided to take my ass up and move North West of Miami (still in Florida) on the advice of some forum members. For the Tampa based patrons, I extend a thanks for the moral support was there as I undertook my journey.
A lot of people have told me that Miami is wack to build up in (make money, network etc) at this particular point in time (2012 and on). Perhaps 15 years ago, it might have been better but the people there are selfish and ignorant and the whole Latin experience for a non Spanish speaker is a pain in the arse. If you have something independent going on, then it is fine but my experience for getting started wasn't a good one. Maybe logistics played a part and vehicular mobility as well but I was told by <insert family member> and others that it wouldn't make a difference.
Tired of the language barrier, the fakeness and general inability to get money, I finally said fcuk off to South Florida and made my way North West to the city of Tampa.
As a disclaimer, I live near USF in a reformed hood area so the general demographics are quite different to those who have vacationed in Tampa and stayed in the more touristy areas. My neighbours are Section 8 candidates and I'm in a sea of black Americans, Puerto Ricans and a sprinkle of black Haitians.
For those in Miami, compare it to a cleaned up Liberty city.
During my stay in Miami, I stayed in a gated community and not near a hood of any sort.
Being in Tampa is a bit of touchdown with reality. Interactions here are more normal. It is definitely area specific but the people in my area look real bummy..a lot of blacks and a few whites..very overweight. Nearly everyone is covered in meaningless tattoos and I see a grill every 5 mins but they are cool and very friendly. Not superficial like in Miami. There is a butchers just across the road that sells three whole chickens for 10 bucks. Only in America.
A lot of guys ride push bikes in my area. The roads are constantly criss crossing with dudes on push bikes. There is a church up the road that donates free bikes to those who get a reference letter from their police station, welfare officer or pastor and then they can pick up a bike of their choice complete with lights and bike lock. The rider demographics remind me of Amsterdam but with more blacks. I always like bikes as it reminds me of back in the days in London when Jamaicans would be on the bikes, shotting weed and other stuff and multi tasking with plenty of road game especially during the summer. With bikes you can always get a lot of lizards on the road, slow down talk to them and get their number. With a car, one would hold up traffic and it's more intimidating. Bikes are less intrusive.
I yearn for some wanton hoodrats but taking el Mechanico's advice, I didn't want to shit where I live and have been very coy on the wenches that frequent my area. However, when he visited me and saw where I live, he changed his advice on that.
"Fcuk em all and then just leave, Moma", he ordered and I processed that for future reference.
He took me around to Ybor city and gave me specific advice on how to be successful in Tampa. He showed me the Casino near Raymond James stadium and then we rolled around my area for a bit. I stopped in a Jamaican place to get some stew chicken and rice and peas and tried to holla at the woman working there, a young black lizard of St Lucian descent.
She said she was from Miami and I already felt it slipping out of my fingers. I asked her for the digits and she said she doesn't give out her number.
Fcuk it, I grabbed my rice and peas and bounced with el mechanico who observed my interaction with the Lucian thoughtfully.
I made my way out on Wednesday night to Babalouies on recommendation of some cat lurking on the streets around 10pm. Making the 30 min trek up there, I entered the bar. The vibes in there were cool. I posted up near the corner where some cats were playing pool. I like to play pool although I'm not the greatest. One of the cats had a ponytail turned white from age and his teeth weren't the best..he played another skinny cat with bad teeth. The vibes in here were friendly.
I sat on the rotating stool watching the action and some Asian lizard came and sat in the stool next to me. She was accompanied by two other guys and another woman.
"Hey you don't mind if I sit here, do you?" said the Asian lizard. She looked so buzzed that I couldn't even see her pupils. She was pretty and would definitely get to bounce on the Moma throne if it came down to it but I didn't want to ruffle the vibe of the friendly guy who may or may not have been with her.
"No, you are welcome", I said.
"Hey", she said. "We are going to kick those guys asses at pool, are you down?".
"Most definitely", I said with a smile.
I continued to watch the guys play pool. Some time passed and then the Asian lizard said:
"Hey, do you wanna come with us and watch anal porn?",
I looked at her suspiciously and peered at her male friend and then the other woman. The male friend had a slightly goofy look on his face.
"It's got like bitches fcuking and redheads getting fcuked in the ass. It's a bar not too far from here.",
Was this some kind of swinger shyt where the goofy dude hangs around while I poke his Asian bird?
"Sure", I said, remaining aloof. I had heard a lot of bullshit in North America so promises made are not kept as much as thrown out there.
"It's gonna be at this pub not too far from here, it's got a lot of bitches fcuking on screen", she said loudly.
Her friend who looked like she was possibly of Persian or Lebanese descent perhaps diluted with white, positioned herself between my legs and asked me if I like to go out to places.
"I'm from London, England" I said in my best British accent. "It would be nice if you could show me around sometime?"
"Yes", she said still standing between my legs and brought out her phone. We exchanged digits and I said I would call her in a few days. Still thinking about the anal porn and the possibility of fcuking the cute Asian, I made my way out to the parking lot and saw the group in the parking lot talking near the car.
"Where is this pub again?" I asked them.
"It's along Bearrs road and you make a right at blah blah blah" said one of the guys.
"Ok", I said, too proud to ask for a lift and I decided to go for a walk. It was a nice night and I need to calibrate my thoughts.
Cut a long story short, I couldn't find the place and I made my way home. Calling the Persian lizard a few days later, I got voicemail and no response from my texts so fcuk it, we move on.
Now some of you guys may wonder why I didn't push for SNL but my place is currently decked out like Prince Hakeem's place in Queens in 'Coming to America' before Semi went out and got the indoor jacuzzi complete with stereo system etc.
And the way some of you guys talk about you gotta have a pimp pad and be ballerific, I guess I psyched myself out of old instincts. But we learn lessons every day.
Searching on craiglist, I was able to pick up a road bike (push bike) for about 50 bucks from a nice couple from Michigan. Cutting through the golf course, I saw a huge black snake undulating across the green. This shyt was unbelievable to me and I took a vid.
Having gotten some intel from a local dude with a mouth full of gold teeth trying to sell me $2 dollar movies about some bar called Interstate, I decided to do some recon.
Spinning through on my bike, I eventually found this spot and it looked like one of those bars from Desperado..a real dive. A black lizard outside walking a small mutt (which looked out of place as an accessory for her) smiled at me. She looked rather tore up and whorish so I decided to just observe and she diverted her attention to some Latin cat parked up in the parking lot in his car. My loins rumbled hungrily but I decided to wait. Placing my bike on its kickstand, I dismounted and entered the place. Everyone spun around to look at me like I was the Sherriff.
I walked over to the bar as I saw a lull in the barmaid's requests from the patrons (it was only about 3:00pm in the afternoon so not peak period). She was a black lizard drenched in tattoos. I leaned over and asked her what time the bar gets to be jumping.
"Around 10:30 this evening", she said.
"Ok", I said and spinning my eyes around the joint once more, I left.
The other night after feeling like I was about to lose my nuggets cooped in the house, I took a nap, had a shower and got ready to hit the local spot (Interstate lounge).
In the parking lot was an aggregation of black Americans, grilled out and the women overweight with tattoos all over their exposed flesh.
I rode my bike to the back and found a tree in behind one of the escalades and tied the bike up.
Enter the lounge.
Same make up as the other day..but I would say even more black and less other mix. They had some pool tables in the back and to the wall opposite of the door, there was a juke box with some dancehall music playing and next to the jukebox, a games machine with some kind of bowling game.
A gangly white guy about six feet and as hood as fcuk, with a mouthful of grill and tattoos from his ankles all the way up to his ears, played the game with some black guy and cackled loudly pausing ever so often to count his 'racks'.
I scanned the room to look for talent but these ratchetts looked waay too hard. There was a woman in the middle who reminded me of Spike from the Gremlins. Her mouth was full of grill and she had a gucci hat on. She looked like one of Flava Flav's relatives. Her shorts extended down to her shins and she had on some thick boots.
She seemed to be the ring leader of these group of twerking harlots. Some lizard came in with her friend..she looked like she may have distant roots in East Africa from the Eritrea, Ethopia, Somalia region. She had small joints and her ass looked like someone had stuffed lots of cookie dough in her tights in a hurry. Would I hit that particular creature? Of course, you know I'm a dirty pig.
Lizards started to pour in towards the 12:00 mark. Two came in, huge, one had a back like Ronnie Coleman. Another one came in with an abnormal ass but a face that looked exactly like Zach Randolph.
I was flunking the boner test left and right. Summer class is definitely in order. Another one came in and Spike from the Gremlins started talking to her. This lizard who had just come in looked exactly like John Wall (professional basketball player with Washington Wizards), with the same body fat levels..wiry as fcuk.
My thoughts continued to escalate in the place and I began to believe that some of these lizards were so masculine that they could actually pull and fcuk STRAIGHT bitches on an SNL. Their testosterone levels seemed that high.
Going the interracial route was dead in here. The white lizard that came in looked like a luxury coach..she was that big. She had all sorts of fat on her but most of it was around her mid region like a group of planets orbitting.
After a heineken and a Red Stripe, I said fcuk it and jumped on my bike tipsy. Saw a lizard outside with another lizard near one of the sheds hurriedly pulling her pants up. Not a male in sight near these two. The lizard who was slow to get her tights back up looked lean as fcuk and very tranny-ish. I saw her thongs and my boner test failed again at her strong masculine looking frame. I was in strong suspicion of a few trannies in the joint. I saw her taut black buttocks accentuated by the g-string she (or he) was wearing.
After speaking with a few of the guys who work in the store right near where I live, I pressed from intel where the lizards were at. One of the guys, a regular customer mentioned a joint near Ybor city but due to a lack of mobility at the moment, I choose to play in my area. I pressed further for a joint near to me.
They recommended places for me NOT to go and the guy, who would make my Cuban sandwiches on days when I was out of food and unable to cook due to work requirements, named Jonny spoke to the other guy.
"This my boy from England", he smiled proudly. I told him of Interstate lounge and they shook their heads in unison hurriedly.
"Naww!", they said in a joint fashion. "Don't go there, it wild!"
"It didn't seem that bad when I went", I said. "When you go?", they asked.
"I went on a Sunday evening", I said.
"Oh", laughed Jonny. "That a church day, they were behaving."
I decided to give Interstate another shot on a Saturday to see if it matched up. Riding up there after a shower and dressing accordingly, jeans and a long sleeved shirt, I tied my bike up to a tree behind some Range Rover and went to the door. There was always people situated in the parking lot which was an open affair adjacent to the side road that tiered off immediately from the main road (Nebraska avenue). It looked like that Blue Oyster bar from Police Academy, the door was some dingy iron joint. At the door seemed a person with one of those Kriss Kross twists, who could have also passed for a very butch dyke. I had my bag on me, which I used to keep my phone and my bike tools in case I broke down and also my lock as I cycled.
"Nah, you can't take that in thurr", he told me in ebonics. "I don't have anything in there", I said. I didn't have a trunk to leave my bag.
He looked in my face and gathered I wasn't 'bout that life' and said "You don't have a gun in there, do ya?"
"No!", I said. He peered in there with a small flashlight and said "You got ID?",
I showed him my Miami driving license and he nodded me inside. Inside, I looked around. It seemed the same bunch of jokers were inside. The white guy who was tatted from his neck to his ankles, was there as usual, and as normal was glued to the bowling arcade game situated against the far wall next to the juke box. He hit another strike and whooped and twirled around, howling some ebonics and flashing his fat grip (a thick wad of bills).
The lizards in here were a hot mess. As usual, the asses were powerful and excessive but the faces were from a land that time had forgotten and the weaves were outrageous with that horrid lace front that I have only ever seen in America. It was almost like a one piece affair, as if you lift it off from the mantelpiece and place it on your head like a hat.
I bought one vodka and cranberry juice and retreated to the corner a few tables over from the juke box to assess the situation. This place seemed very cliqued off and although the patrons were cool and I didn't feel any bad vibes, I could tell that I stuck out like a white girl in a Ugandan village. This would make approaching very hard as I could tell that all eyes were most definitely on me. Sometimes I wonder if I give off that undercover cop vibe as I was accused of that in Toronto a couple of years ago as I made my way to TTC station (main) by some alcoholic looking lizard.
In fact, when I went to some black joint in Miami with Nomad, I dressed up with a blazer, shirt and trousers and smart shoes as always and they let us right in and the promoter, some black cat, asked me if I wanted any drink etc as if I were the Feds.
Anyway, I liked the music in Interstate and I watched a tall strong black lizard play pool in the far end of the room opposite from the bar. In front of me, a short black lizard with so much ass, that she seemed to totter unsteadily in the heels that she chose to wear and tattoos sprinkled all over her chest and her back, set up to play her turn on the bowling machine with the white baller. I sipped the voddy and decided to give the joint 15 mins to fix up. Fcuk watching these goats hang out. In front of me, some cat looking like a burnt out Giancarlo Esposito, stayed high on whatever he was on, eyes squinted shut in a perma state of humour. He sipped from his cup and laughed silently at some joke and some other guy bought him a set of drinks.
A guy in a wheelchair rolled into the lounge and positioned by the table in front of me. The bowling game fanatic came up and gave him a pound and a hug and ordered a drink of something for him. Burnt out Giancarlo came by cradling his five cups of drink and his eyes still Asian from drugs and sat down and they all continued corresponding.
Some guy in the corner with jean shorts so baggy that they reached his ankles was opening steadily and getting shut down. Two worn out looking lizards came in and he leaned in lazily with some pickup line and the lizard fobbed him off and kept it moving. I saw another lizard appear with a half decent body but bad presentation and a face that could have easily passed for an NBA point guard and this guy leaned in again with the usual lazy opener.
After a while I saw him dutty wining with some lizard to a tune playing on the juke box. The door opened and the same tough looking lizard from last week with the John Wall face entered with the same strong ass shoulders. Fcuk this tranny shit, I had enough of these cats and I decided to hit up Fatsos.
I looked around once and headed for the door. Round to the back where I tied up my bike, hopped on that bitch and I was Swayze.
On the way to Fatsos as I made a left on Linebaugh Avenue, I could hear reggae music booming across the street. If Fatsos was wack, I would determine the source of this music. A lot of my friends bemoan me for frequenting these joints as they are usually full of lizards that are not the best for SNL and often more hassle than worth (Jamaican lizards) but I am terrible with wack music and feel more energised with good music.
Fatsos wasn't far from Interstate at all and I arrived there shortly. A group of guys congregated in the parking lot and near the door. I excused myself past them and looked into Fatsos. Fatsos was a place with numerous pool tables, a bar and a small dance area near the entrance where music would be playing. On this night, a DJ was situated in the dance area with his equipment playing music. The joint was as dead as Popeye's chicken and I watched one lone lizard work on her twerk moves on the dance floor while another couple, who could have passed for two dykes, since I wasn't sure of gender with the way some of these peeps dressed. The open opportunities for me just wasn't there and I thought fcuk it and I dipped out.
I decided to find out where this booming reggae music was. Crossing Linebaugh avenue and over the rail tracks, going around a set of buildings I could see a parking lot and a set up of people etc. It was now about 1:30am in the morning. Tying up my bike discreetly (even though it's Tampa, I feel that swag takes a hit if you roll up to the spot on a bike), I tucked in my shirt and bopped up to the joint. The music was nice. I walked up to the guy at the door and peered over his shoulder.
"What time does it close here", I asked as he patted me down. "Tree o'clock", he said in a Jamaican accent. I peered around, the music was enticing.
"How much is it?" I asked.
"Ten dollars", he said as I stood there. I looked in suspiciously, I didn't want to shell out on any wack joint although I was loving the music.
"Can I go in and check it out before deciding?", I asked.
"No", said the guy shaking his head. "There's a next place in deh, nuh just one place" he said.
The space I was looking onto which was like a garden area had some nice music playing. I could see a small amount of people situated there, maybe one or two dancing and the rest sitting down smoking.
"Ok", I said and stood back for a minute. One guy in black, security, came out and gave me a look of slight apprehension. For some reason, I guess people here think I might be strapped or something? Not sure.
I stood back for a bit and looked at the crowd. Not really impressed, I decided to head back. I would only be in there for about one and a half hours for 10 dollars. Then as I stood near the tree facing my bike, I thought..fcuk are you going back to? You come to America to sit at home? Fcuk if you solo. I don't even tend to club all night anyway so one and a half hours suits me fine.
As Nomad said, you have plenty time to rest when you are old so do the ting while you're young.
I took out my 10 dollar bill and headed back. I was patted down again, this time by another Jamaican dude who had a firearm holstered on his mid thigh. I paid the entrance fee and went in.
Music was nice, more a laidback flow in the garden and stood there for a bit watching. A fat couple sat on the bench. The lizard had a piercing through her bottom lip and some elaborate hairdo. Her eyes were so blunted, she looked like she was ready to drop. I looked around. To my left, another reptile rolled up a blunt, sealing the paper with a lighter. In front of me, another group of fatties (3 lizards) danced to the music.
The music was good and I always feel I have a good time if the music is good, even if the lizards are trash. I decided to delve further and go inside the joint. Inside the place was a bar to my immediate right and a pool table on a floor slightly elevated from where I was standing. Directly in front, was the pit, where people could sit eat, drink and dance. In the pit, elevated, was a platform with an arena to dance and then further elevated was the DJ's booth. To the left of the pit, was another bar. Circling the pit as a balcony lead to the VIP area. A few people were in there, but you didn't get the impression that you were balling if you were there.
I scanned for targets but lizards seemed grouped off here and I felt as conspicuous as a cockroach in a wedding cake. In this instances, I felt that one opening is all I get as all eyes on me and lizards don't like to feel like they are second fiddle (generally).
I saw a lizard that side glanced me twice. She was wearing some kind of purple body suit and she wore spectacles but I wasn't on my game and sabotaging myself on taking her back to my place on the back of my bike I said fcuk it and let the music ride out till close.
I felt that Toronto didn't fulfil on its representation and it's a city that lives in New York's shadow and is a second rate version. I never liked dealing with carbon copies and I'd rather deal with the real thing or not at all.
I am still building at the moment but it's the same thing when I went to Toronto. I knew no one there and I had to claw my way into a social group as people are unfriendly in Toronto. A few people have made promises here that haven't been kept etc, such as getting number in promise to link up etc but Toronto and Miami has numbed me to lies. In my years in those two cities, I've heard so many lies that it has become the lingua franca and I hear it almost like it's my mother tongue.
However, I must honestly say that I have a feel about Tampa that I didn't feel about Miami. People here are genuinely nice and helpful and I feel that once I get my niche, I should be alright. I didn't feel that about Miami and I felt that they were very selfish there and unsupportive there. In life, I have no shame about moving from a place I don't like and that doesn't gel with how I operate.
Even a Nigerian cat that I met in Miami on Nigerian Independence day gave me some number to call him about helping with a job. When I called him back, he kind of fobbed me off and I got an NDR on the email address he provided me with. When I called his number back not too long after, it was dead. When I saw him in Blue Martini a few months down the line in Kendall, I saw his eyes flicker a bit, as I am fairly recognisable. I thought, fcuk him, when my papers are up and my clout is there, I remember those who had my back and those who were on that Miami bullshit.
However, there are definitely a few from Miami that were solid to the core, helping me during the times of discovery and they know who they are.
Moma no forget am.
So that's it so far.
Section 8: Housing areas where rent is subsidised by the government. Candidates include single mothers and other people with other impediments to earning a decent salary.
Grill: Not the type where one can go about preparing some delicious steaks and chicken but when one's teeth are encased in gold or platinum.
Pound: A powerful handshake when you grasp the other person's hand and then pull them towards your opposite shoulder in a comradely embrace.
Swayze: Ghost/gone. A term used to describe when one is leaving immediately.
COMING SOON: RETURN OF ONLINE GAME, CHANGING OF THE TIDES (SPONSORED BY EL MECHANICO)
A lot of people have told me that Miami is wack to build up in (make money, network etc) at this particular point in time (2012 and on). Perhaps 15 years ago, it might have been better but the people there are selfish and ignorant and the whole Latin experience for a non Spanish speaker is a pain in the arse. If you have something independent going on, then it is fine but my experience for getting started wasn't a good one. Maybe logistics played a part and vehicular mobility as well but I was told by <insert family member> and others that it wouldn't make a difference.
Tired of the language barrier, the fakeness and general inability to get money, I finally said fcuk off to South Florida and made my way North West to the city of Tampa.
INITIAL OUTLOOK
As a disclaimer, I live near USF in a reformed hood area so the general demographics are quite different to those who have vacationed in Tampa and stayed in the more touristy areas. My neighbours are Section 8 candidates and I'm in a sea of black Americans, Puerto Ricans and a sprinkle of black Haitians.
For those in Miami, compare it to a cleaned up Liberty city.
During my stay in Miami, I stayed in a gated community and not near a hood of any sort.
Being in Tampa is a bit of touchdown with reality. Interactions here are more normal. It is definitely area specific but the people in my area look real bummy..a lot of blacks and a few whites..very overweight. Nearly everyone is covered in meaningless tattoos and I see a grill every 5 mins but they are cool and very friendly. Not superficial like in Miami. There is a butchers just across the road that sells three whole chickens for 10 bucks. Only in America.
A lot of guys ride push bikes in my area. The roads are constantly criss crossing with dudes on push bikes. There is a church up the road that donates free bikes to those who get a reference letter from their police station, welfare officer or pastor and then they can pick up a bike of their choice complete with lights and bike lock. The rider demographics remind me of Amsterdam but with more blacks. I always like bikes as it reminds me of back in the days in London when Jamaicans would be on the bikes, shotting weed and other stuff and multi tasking with plenty of road game especially during the summer. With bikes you can always get a lot of lizards on the road, slow down talk to them and get their number. With a car, one would hold up traffic and it's more intimidating. Bikes are less intrusive.
ADVICE FROM THE STATESMAN
I yearn for some wanton hoodrats but taking el Mechanico's advice, I didn't want to shit where I live and have been very coy on the wenches that frequent my area. However, when he visited me and saw where I live, he changed his advice on that.
"Fcuk em all and then just leave, Moma", he ordered and I processed that for future reference.
He took me around to Ybor city and gave me specific advice on how to be successful in Tampa. He showed me the Casino near Raymond James stadium and then we rolled around my area for a bit. I stopped in a Jamaican place to get some stew chicken and rice and peas and tried to holla at the woman working there, a young black lizard of St Lucian descent.
She said she was from Miami and I already felt it slipping out of my fingers. I asked her for the digits and she said she doesn't give out her number.
Fcuk it, I grabbed my rice and peas and bounced with el mechanico who observed my interaction with the Lucian thoughtfully.
FIRST HUNT
I went out looking for a bar my first weekend and I found out a little dive run by a cool Turkish man who spoke zero English. In there were a group of Hispanic labourers who were from Honduras. I love culture and different countries because two of the loudest cats were direct Asian ancestry but struggled to piece together an English sentence just like the rest of the brown cats. They were friendly and allowed me to join them in a game of pool. I downed an American beer and played doubles with one of the Honduras bros but because there were zero lizards, I made my way home.I made my way out on Wednesday night to Babalouies on recommendation of some cat lurking on the streets around 10pm. Making the 30 min trek up there, I entered the bar. The vibes in there were cool. I posted up near the corner where some cats were playing pool. I like to play pool although I'm not the greatest. One of the cats had a ponytail turned white from age and his teeth weren't the best..he played another skinny cat with bad teeth. The vibes in here were friendly.
I sat on the rotating stool watching the action and some Asian lizard came and sat in the stool next to me. She was accompanied by two other guys and another woman.
"Hey you don't mind if I sit here, do you?" said the Asian lizard. She looked so buzzed that I couldn't even see her pupils. She was pretty and would definitely get to bounce on the Moma throne if it came down to it but I didn't want to ruffle the vibe of the friendly guy who may or may not have been with her.
"No, you are welcome", I said.
"Hey", she said. "We are going to kick those guys asses at pool, are you down?".
"Most definitely", I said with a smile.
I continued to watch the guys play pool. Some time passed and then the Asian lizard said:
"Hey, do you wanna come with us and watch anal porn?",
I looked at her suspiciously and peered at her male friend and then the other woman. The male friend had a slightly goofy look on his face.
"It's got like bitches fcuking and redheads getting fcuked in the ass. It's a bar not too far from here.",
Was this some kind of swinger shyt where the goofy dude hangs around while I poke his Asian bird?
"Sure", I said, remaining aloof. I had heard a lot of bullshit in North America so promises made are not kept as much as thrown out there.
"It's gonna be at this pub not too far from here, it's got a lot of bitches fcuking on screen", she said loudly.
Her friend who looked like she was possibly of Persian or Lebanese descent perhaps diluted with white, positioned herself between my legs and asked me if I like to go out to places.
"I'm from London, England" I said in my best British accent. "It would be nice if you could show me around sometime?"
"Yes", she said still standing between my legs and brought out her phone. We exchanged digits and I said I would call her in a few days. Still thinking about the anal porn and the possibility of fcuking the cute Asian, I made my way out to the parking lot and saw the group in the parking lot talking near the car.
"Where is this pub again?" I asked them.
"It's along Bearrs road and you make a right at blah blah blah" said one of the guys.
"Ok", I said, too proud to ask for a lift and I decided to go for a walk. It was a nice night and I need to calibrate my thoughts.
Cut a long story short, I couldn't find the place and I made my way home. Calling the Persian lizard a few days later, I got voicemail and no response from my texts so fcuk it, we move on.
Now some of you guys may wonder why I didn't push for SNL but my place is currently decked out like Prince Hakeem's place in Queens in 'Coming to America' before Semi went out and got the indoor jacuzzi complete with stereo system etc.
And the way some of you guys talk about you gotta have a pimp pad and be ballerific, I guess I psyched myself out of old instincts. But we learn lessons every day.
MOBILITY
I've taken some time to just absorb the area. Taking the advice of brother mechanico to just talk and try to get know people as this is how I will be able to find my way around things.Searching on craiglist, I was able to pick up a road bike (push bike) for about 50 bucks from a nice couple from Michigan. Cutting through the golf course, I saw a huge black snake undulating across the green. This shyt was unbelievable to me and I took a vid.
Having gotten some intel from a local dude with a mouth full of gold teeth trying to sell me $2 dollar movies about some bar called Interstate, I decided to do some recon.
Spinning through on my bike, I eventually found this spot and it looked like one of those bars from Desperado..a real dive. A black lizard outside walking a small mutt (which looked out of place as an accessory for her) smiled at me. She looked rather tore up and whorish so I decided to just observe and she diverted her attention to some Latin cat parked up in the parking lot in his car. My loins rumbled hungrily but I decided to wait. Placing my bike on its kickstand, I dismounted and entered the place. Everyone spun around to look at me like I was the Sherriff.
I walked over to the bar as I saw a lull in the barmaid's requests from the patrons (it was only about 3:00pm in the afternoon so not peak period). She was a black lizard drenched in tattoos. I leaned over and asked her what time the bar gets to be jumping.
"Around 10:30 this evening", she said.
"Ok", I said and spinning my eyes around the joint once more, I left.
The other night after feeling like I was about to lose my nuggets cooped in the house, I took a nap, had a shower and got ready to hit the local spot (Interstate lounge).
SUNDAY TRYOUTS
Fast forward to Sunday night, I hopped on my push bike, flung the lights on and made my way to Interstate lounge.In the parking lot was an aggregation of black Americans, grilled out and the women overweight with tattoos all over their exposed flesh.
I rode my bike to the back and found a tree in behind one of the escalades and tied the bike up.
Enter the lounge.
Same make up as the other day..but I would say even more black and less other mix. They had some pool tables in the back and to the wall opposite of the door, there was a juke box with some dancehall music playing and next to the jukebox, a games machine with some kind of bowling game.
A gangly white guy about six feet and as hood as fcuk, with a mouthful of grill and tattoos from his ankles all the way up to his ears, played the game with some black guy and cackled loudly pausing ever so often to count his 'racks'.
I scanned the room to look for talent but these ratchetts looked waay too hard. There was a woman in the middle who reminded me of Spike from the Gremlins. Her mouth was full of grill and she had a gucci hat on. She looked like one of Flava Flav's relatives. Her shorts extended down to her shins and she had on some thick boots.
She seemed to be the ring leader of these group of twerking harlots. Some lizard came in with her friend..she looked like she may have distant roots in East Africa from the Eritrea, Ethopia, Somalia region. She had small joints and her ass looked like someone had stuffed lots of cookie dough in her tights in a hurry. Would I hit that particular creature? Of course, you know I'm a dirty pig.
Lizards started to pour in towards the 12:00 mark. Two came in, huge, one had a back like Ronnie Coleman. Another one came in with an abnormal ass but a face that looked exactly like Zach Randolph.
I was flunking the boner test left and right. Summer class is definitely in order. Another one came in and Spike from the Gremlins started talking to her. This lizard who had just come in looked exactly like John Wall (professional basketball player with Washington Wizards), with the same body fat levels..wiry as fcuk.
My thoughts continued to escalate in the place and I began to believe that some of these lizards were so masculine that they could actually pull and fcuk STRAIGHT bitches on an SNL. Their testosterone levels seemed that high.
Going the interracial route was dead in here. The white lizard that came in looked like a luxury coach..she was that big. She had all sorts of fat on her but most of it was around her mid region like a group of planets orbitting.
After a heineken and a Red Stripe, I said fcuk it and jumped on my bike tipsy. Saw a lizard outside with another lizard near one of the sheds hurriedly pulling her pants up. Not a male in sight near these two. The lizard who was slow to get her tights back up looked lean as fcuk and very tranny-ish. I saw her thongs and my boner test failed again at her strong masculine looking frame. I was in strong suspicion of a few trannies in the joint. I saw her taut black buttocks accentuated by the g-string she (or he) was wearing.
LOCAL RECON
After speaking with a few of the guys who work in the store right near where I live, I pressed from intel where the lizards were at. One of the guys, a regular customer mentioned a joint near Ybor city but due to a lack of mobility at the moment, I choose to play in my area. I pressed further for a joint near to me.
They recommended places for me NOT to go and the guy, who would make my Cuban sandwiches on days when I was out of food and unable to cook due to work requirements, named Jonny spoke to the other guy.
"This my boy from England", he smiled proudly. I told him of Interstate lounge and they shook their heads in unison hurriedly.
"Naww!", they said in a joint fashion. "Don't go there, it wild!"
"It didn't seem that bad when I went", I said. "When you go?", they asked.
"I went on a Sunday evening", I said.
"Oh", laughed Jonny. "That a church day, they were behaving."
RETURN TO SATURDAY NIGHT
I decided to give Interstate another shot on a Saturday to see if it matched up. Riding up there after a shower and dressing accordingly, jeans and a long sleeved shirt, I tied my bike up to a tree behind some Range Rover and went to the door. There was always people situated in the parking lot which was an open affair adjacent to the side road that tiered off immediately from the main road (Nebraska avenue). It looked like that Blue Oyster bar from Police Academy, the door was some dingy iron joint. At the door seemed a person with one of those Kriss Kross twists, who could have also passed for a very butch dyke. I had my bag on me, which I used to keep my phone and my bike tools in case I broke down and also my lock as I cycled.
"Nah, you can't take that in thurr", he told me in ebonics. "I don't have anything in there", I said. I didn't have a trunk to leave my bag.
He looked in my face and gathered I wasn't 'bout that life' and said "You don't have a gun in there, do ya?"
"No!", I said. He peered in there with a small flashlight and said "You got ID?",
I showed him my Miami driving license and he nodded me inside. Inside, I looked around. It seemed the same bunch of jokers were inside. The white guy who was tatted from his neck to his ankles, was there as usual, and as normal was glued to the bowling arcade game situated against the far wall next to the juke box. He hit another strike and whooped and twirled around, howling some ebonics and flashing his fat grip (a thick wad of bills).
The lizards in here were a hot mess. As usual, the asses were powerful and excessive but the faces were from a land that time had forgotten and the weaves were outrageous with that horrid lace front that I have only ever seen in America. It was almost like a one piece affair, as if you lift it off from the mantelpiece and place it on your head like a hat.
I bought one vodka and cranberry juice and retreated to the corner a few tables over from the juke box to assess the situation. This place seemed very cliqued off and although the patrons were cool and I didn't feel any bad vibes, I could tell that I stuck out like a white girl in a Ugandan village. This would make approaching very hard as I could tell that all eyes were most definitely on me. Sometimes I wonder if I give off that undercover cop vibe as I was accused of that in Toronto a couple of years ago as I made my way to TTC station (main) by some alcoholic looking lizard.
In fact, when I went to some black joint in Miami with Nomad, I dressed up with a blazer, shirt and trousers and smart shoes as always and they let us right in and the promoter, some black cat, asked me if I wanted any drink etc as if I were the Feds.
Anyway, I liked the music in Interstate and I watched a tall strong black lizard play pool in the far end of the room opposite from the bar. In front of me, a short black lizard with so much ass, that she seemed to totter unsteadily in the heels that she chose to wear and tattoos sprinkled all over her chest and her back, set up to play her turn on the bowling machine with the white baller. I sipped the voddy and decided to give the joint 15 mins to fix up. Fcuk watching these goats hang out. In front of me, some cat looking like a burnt out Giancarlo Esposito, stayed high on whatever he was on, eyes squinted shut in a perma state of humour. He sipped from his cup and laughed silently at some joke and some other guy bought him a set of drinks.
A guy in a wheelchair rolled into the lounge and positioned by the table in front of me. The bowling game fanatic came up and gave him a pound and a hug and ordered a drink of something for him. Burnt out Giancarlo came by cradling his five cups of drink and his eyes still Asian from drugs and sat down and they all continued corresponding.
Some guy in the corner with jean shorts so baggy that they reached his ankles was opening steadily and getting shut down. Two worn out looking lizards came in and he leaned in lazily with some pickup line and the lizard fobbed him off and kept it moving. I saw another lizard appear with a half decent body but bad presentation and a face that could have easily passed for an NBA point guard and this guy leaned in again with the usual lazy opener.
After a while I saw him dutty wining with some lizard to a tune playing on the juke box. The door opened and the same tough looking lizard from last week with the John Wall face entered with the same strong ass shoulders. Fcuk this tranny shit, I had enough of these cats and I decided to hit up Fatsos.
I looked around once and headed for the door. Round to the back where I tied up my bike, hopped on that bitch and I was Swayze.
On the way to Fatsos as I made a left on Linebaugh Avenue, I could hear reggae music booming across the street. If Fatsos was wack, I would determine the source of this music. A lot of my friends bemoan me for frequenting these joints as they are usually full of lizards that are not the best for SNL and often more hassle than worth (Jamaican lizards) but I am terrible with wack music and feel more energised with good music.
Fatsos wasn't far from Interstate at all and I arrived there shortly. A group of guys congregated in the parking lot and near the door. I excused myself past them and looked into Fatsos. Fatsos was a place with numerous pool tables, a bar and a small dance area near the entrance where music would be playing. On this night, a DJ was situated in the dance area with his equipment playing music. The joint was as dead as Popeye's chicken and I watched one lone lizard work on her twerk moves on the dance floor while another couple, who could have passed for two dykes, since I wasn't sure of gender with the way some of these peeps dressed. The open opportunities for me just wasn't there and I thought fcuk it and I dipped out.
I decided to find out where this booming reggae music was. Crossing Linebaugh avenue and over the rail tracks, going around a set of buildings I could see a parking lot and a set up of people etc. It was now about 1:30am in the morning. Tying up my bike discreetly (even though it's Tampa, I feel that swag takes a hit if you roll up to the spot on a bike), I tucked in my shirt and bopped up to the joint. The music was nice. I walked up to the guy at the door and peered over his shoulder.
"What time does it close here", I asked as he patted me down. "Tree o'clock", he said in a Jamaican accent. I peered around, the music was enticing.
"How much is it?" I asked.
"Ten dollars", he said as I stood there. I looked in suspiciously, I didn't want to shell out on any wack joint although I was loving the music.
"Can I go in and check it out before deciding?", I asked.
"No", said the guy shaking his head. "There's a next place in deh, nuh just one place" he said.
The space I was looking onto which was like a garden area had some nice music playing. I could see a small amount of people situated there, maybe one or two dancing and the rest sitting down smoking.
"Ok", I said and stood back for a minute. One guy in black, security, came out and gave me a look of slight apprehension. For some reason, I guess people here think I might be strapped or something? Not sure.
I stood back for a bit and looked at the crowd. Not really impressed, I decided to head back. I would only be in there for about one and a half hours for 10 dollars. Then as I stood near the tree facing my bike, I thought..fcuk are you going back to? You come to America to sit at home? Fcuk if you solo. I don't even tend to club all night anyway so one and a half hours suits me fine.
As Nomad said, you have plenty time to rest when you are old so do the ting while you're young.
I took out my 10 dollar bill and headed back. I was patted down again, this time by another Jamaican dude who had a firearm holstered on his mid thigh. I paid the entrance fee and went in.
Music was nice, more a laidback flow in the garden and stood there for a bit watching. A fat couple sat on the bench. The lizard had a piercing through her bottom lip and some elaborate hairdo. Her eyes were so blunted, she looked like she was ready to drop. I looked around. To my left, another reptile rolled up a blunt, sealing the paper with a lighter. In front of me, another group of fatties (3 lizards) danced to the music.
The music was good and I always feel I have a good time if the music is good, even if the lizards are trash. I decided to delve further and go inside the joint. Inside the place was a bar to my immediate right and a pool table on a floor slightly elevated from where I was standing. Directly in front, was the pit, where people could sit eat, drink and dance. In the pit, elevated, was a platform with an arena to dance and then further elevated was the DJ's booth. To the left of the pit, was another bar. Circling the pit as a balcony lead to the VIP area. A few people were in there, but you didn't get the impression that you were balling if you were there.
I scanned for targets but lizards seemed grouped off here and I felt as conspicuous as a cockroach in a wedding cake. In this instances, I felt that one opening is all I get as all eyes on me and lizards don't like to feel like they are second fiddle (generally).
I saw a lizard that side glanced me twice. She was wearing some kind of purple body suit and she wore spectacles but I wasn't on my game and sabotaging myself on taking her back to my place on the back of my bike I said fcuk it and let the music ride out till close.
CONCLUSION
I've had a lot of time to think over my action plans while in America. A lot of people keep asking me to go back to Canada blah blah but I feel it's their insecurities and not mine. It's the exact same things I was asked when I made the move from England to Canada and I don't regret it at all.I felt that Toronto didn't fulfil on its representation and it's a city that lives in New York's shadow and is a second rate version. I never liked dealing with carbon copies and I'd rather deal with the real thing or not at all.
I am still building at the moment but it's the same thing when I went to Toronto. I knew no one there and I had to claw my way into a social group as people are unfriendly in Toronto. A few people have made promises here that haven't been kept etc, such as getting number in promise to link up etc but Toronto and Miami has numbed me to lies. In my years in those two cities, I've heard so many lies that it has become the lingua franca and I hear it almost like it's my mother tongue.
However, I must honestly say that I have a feel about Tampa that I didn't feel about Miami. People here are genuinely nice and helpful and I feel that once I get my niche, I should be alright. I didn't feel that about Miami and I felt that they were very selfish there and unsupportive there. In life, I have no shame about moving from a place I don't like and that doesn't gel with how I operate.
Even a Nigerian cat that I met in Miami on Nigerian Independence day gave me some number to call him about helping with a job. When I called him back, he kind of fobbed me off and I got an NDR on the email address he provided me with. When I called his number back not too long after, it was dead. When I saw him in Blue Martini a few months down the line in Kendall, I saw his eyes flicker a bit, as I am fairly recognisable. I thought, fcuk him, when my papers are up and my clout is there, I remember those who had my back and those who were on that Miami bullshit.
However, there are definitely a few from Miami that were solid to the core, helping me during the times of discovery and they know who they are.
Moma no forget am.
So that's it so far.
GLOSSARY:
Section 8: Housing areas where rent is subsidised by the government. Candidates include single mothers and other people with other impediments to earning a decent salary.
Grill: Not the type where one can go about preparing some delicious steaks and chicken but when one's teeth are encased in gold or platinum.
Pound: A powerful handshake when you grasp the other person's hand and then pull them towards your opposite shoulder in a comradely embrace.
Swayze: Ghost/gone. A term used to describe when one is leaving immediately.
COMING SOON: RETURN OF ONLINE GAME, CHANGING OF THE TIDES (SPONSORED BY EL MECHANICO)
OUR NEW BLOG!
http://repstylez.com
My NEW TRAVEL E-BOOK - DOMINICAN REPUBLIC - A RED CARPET AFFAIR
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00K53LVR8
Love 'em or leave 'em but we can't live without lizardsssss..
An Ode To Lizards
