Posts Tagged ‘Birmingham Alabama’
Don’t mess with the Indian in the parking lot … October 20th, 2008
Birmingham, Alabama
Injun (noun): redskin, red man; a term offensive to Native Americans
Before the knives came out ...
Rick, the itinerant, weathered fruit salesman from Oklahoma was telling me about his sales technique, the 9/11 conspiracy and about his dad. He had initially suspected that I might be a radical Islamist, but got over this after the first few sentences we exchanged.
‘You know dawg, some time ago I told him, Dad Georgia’s gone to war with Russia. And he said, ‘What? And what about the rest of the United States? He almost fell over laughing–partly because of the joke and partly due to the last Miller light he’d downed.
We were sitting in a parking lot, the fruit crew’s pick up truck open from the back to show off cases sourced fresh from farms. A speaker tethered to the truck’s cd player played Gun’s and Roses or Hank Williams depending on who got to it first.
There were five of them running this trip: going door to door selling grapefruit or oranges by the case. It was Saturday, they had sold $3,800 worth of cases. It was time to party.
I asked Rick about all the no soliciting signs and how he got around them. “Oh yeah, one time there were these three huge signs on the same door, and it pissed me off. So I decided I just had to go in.
“The guy goes… DIDN’T YOU READ THE SIGNS? And I say, Oh I wasn’t smoking? He says that’s a ‘no soliciting sign, can’t you read?’ And I say, ‘if I could read, would I be selling f***ing fruit door to door. I sold him a case alright.”
JJ, just before the fight ...
Part of the crew is JJ. He paced up and down a lot: long hair, tattoos on his bare body, jeans an big old cowboy hat. He shook my hand, saying: I’m Indian, where you from man?
‘India.’
‘Oh yeah. I’m Cherokee-Chickasaw. Proud of my Indian heritage, man. Real proud.’
Stacy, one of the crew, said he wanted to put on some rap. But JJ didn’t like the idea: ‘I don’t want no nigger music man. No nigger music around here.’
Rick turned to me apologetically: ‘He’s just a redneck… he said smiling. Guns and Roses kept playing.
The music from the truck, attracted other guests at the Days Inn in Fultondale, at the edge of Birmingham, Alabama. It was about the only bit of life in an otherwise dismal setting. Apart from the occasional group of bikers with their brightly lit machines who come to the gas station next door to fill up or get rubbery pizzas at 2.99 a slice; two for $5.
One of the guys who came to join the little Miller Light and Coors party, was a regular fellow in a neatly tucked yellow t-shirt. He’s looked like a republican, and of course, he was. He had one other handicap: he may or may not have known the meaning of the word ‘injun’, but he decided to use it.
JJ, walked up to where Rick and I were and in one smooth motion, pulled out a slim switchblade knife. I could see the knife’s teeth, glinting under the light of that parking lot.
“I’m going take the guy out. I’m going to slit him and watch him squeal.” And after a few minutes pause, during which there was an attempt to lead the prospective victim away, JJ rushed toward him… swinging wildly.
The man retreated, unhurt, fortunately. The little party was over. People dissolved into their rooms. JJ paced up and down the corridor on the second floor of the building. I heard him shout: “Nobody insults my Indian heritage, man…
Tags: Avirook Sen, Birmingham Alabama, Native Americans, US Elections 2008
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