your own backyard

So there I am on the commuter train going through that nebulous area south of downtown LA called "Watts" (until recently mostly african american but now equally populated by various mexican & south american immigrants and the poor), when a couple of young gentlemen of a "gangsta" persuasion amble in.

Both in the same crisp white oversized t-shirts, black khakis, expensive athletic shoes, razor shaped hairlines and exact custom jewlry.

First thing I think of when I see the whole identical "angry rapper youth" outfits that they are wearing is of the only other male dress-alikes that I know of in LA, and that's in the various gay communities...these two ganstas guys would probably kill me if they could read my mind, which I'm glad they can't.

Second thing I think of is the cigarette one is holding, and I just know that he's going to light it up on the train, just 'cause he is full of youthful sneer and attitude and can do what he wants.
Sure enough, halfway between stops, there he goes and starts filling up the car with smoke, much to everyone's annoyance.

I rather enjoy not getting in confrontations with pissed off youth of any persuasion, but even as I'm thinking about the whole "choose your battles" mindset, along comes a very old african american grandma who walks right up to the two and says (very loudly):

"You are the stupidest people on this train. Shame on you, you stupid little shits."

And then she sat down. Many of the riders begin laughing.

The smoker, looking sheepish, tosses the cigarette out the door at the next stop, sits down next to the old woman and says:

"Sorry, Grammas. Please don't tell Dad."

To which she replies:

"I won't. You will." and begins to laugh herself silly.

Heh Heh.