No, I Don’t Want to Go to the Hood Spot
Sometimes, my lady lets me out of the house.
A few weekends ago, I decided to use my allotted “free time” to hang out with an old friend of mine. After thanking my girlfriend again for freeing me for the night, I contacted my homeboy.
I had NO idea where to go. My relationship, and stage in life (translation: I’m 43 years old) kind of prevents me from knowing where the “hot” spots are in my city.
My longtime potna ran down a quick list of local bars and nightclubs we could go to. Some of the names I recognized, and some I didn’t. He ended his list with the name of an establishment I was familiar with, because I saw the place mentioned in my local television news. And not for a good reason. I read about this place on social media. And not for a good reason. Because it’s a Hood Spot.
THE Hood Spot.
And I don’t do Hood Spots any longer.
Because, I’ve got sh** to lose. I’m a writer, a teacher, and a creative. I spent four-plus years in college, and the government’s money for my bachelor’s degree. I’m pretty confident none of that would go to crap if I hung out at Dave & Busters. I’m quite sure all of my accomplishments would be erased if I got lit at Dave Shoots Bustas.
When I was younger, I went to plenty of Hood Spots. And, I had some amazing times. I can’t front, back in the day, and I’m sure even now, the real fun was in the hood. Wild, unadulterated, semi-legal fun.
This is the fun I can’t have any longer. My age won’t allow it. My college degree won’t allow it. My lady won’t allow it.
I’m too old for hood repping, too old for mean mugging and too old to press anybody. I don’t have the game for hood chicks any longer, and I lost my tolerance for multiple drinks of Henny a long time ago. Now that I think about it, between my lack of cool and my middle aged stomach, I’d be a complete liability in a Hood Spot.
I know that some of you must think I’m an elitist by reading this article. Not really. I have a number of friends and family members who are “edgy,” and I love them. And, I’ll go out with them. To one of my nice, semi-upscale, diverse spots.
I’m not going to their street spots.
If any of you readers frequent Hood Spots, I’m not judging you. Pop ya’ bottles, and run off from ‘da plug.
I’m just going to sip a beer, and nod my head to some Prince…at TGI Fridays.