by today's Urban Chameleon contributor
About a couple of years ago I made the transition from secret meetings with the weed man and smoking blunts in conspicuous places with my homeboys to discovering a love for fine cigars. Each day I look forward to sitting on my patio and sampling a different brand. Some folks smoke cigars as a social activity but I enjoy being alone and unwinding with peace and quiet.
Yesterday, I was doing just that when a brotha dressed in swim trunks and flip flops, presumably on his way to the communal pool, yells up to me (third floor of a complex in a gated community) and says, “Hey brotha, you want a piece of chicken?” I looked down to confirm that he was in fact talking to me and see that he’s holding a large tin of chicken wings. I declined the offer but the brotha was persistent; he offered to toss a piece of chicken up to my patio. When I declined the second time he asked if I preferred a piece of corn. Once again I told the brotha I was cool. What do I look like hanging over my balcony trying to catch a piece of chicken or corn. What happens if I don’t catch it? Why am I even thinking through the scenario? My moment of cigar Zen was ruined. How is it that the ‘hood found me?!
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