The pop off.

Written by Knightshade Leone

Apropos of absolutely nothing but this morning I walk out of the supermarket with an arm full of skinny rectangular boxes of overly priced gluten free macaroni and cheese. Just before I get to my car I peel off one of the thin plastic food service gloves I wear to make groceries nowadays and before I can reach into my back pocket for my keys something catches my eyes and ears.

There is a large black brand new Subaru with the passenger door open and a man behind it on the phone pacing. That was the first thing that caught my eye. Who the fuck buys a brand new Subaru? I instantly surmised that it was a rental. The man behind the brand new Subaru pacing was wearing cut off Levi’s jeans turned into shorts which is not something that would have usually caught my attention except for the fact that this man was clearly in his late 50s and was seeming to force the look if you know what I mean? But this is the real ear catcher, he was speaking fluent Japanese as if it was his first language and this man appeared to be Eastern European. He was thin, very thin. He looked like he smoked a lot. He’s hair was shaved on the sides and on the top he had that German flip to it, you know what I mean? The style is very Nazi-ish but still quite attractive. Off topic, that style was actually appropriated from black men in the 1920s but that’s a story for another time.

I feel like I paused at the door of my car too long as I listened to this man. I do not speak Japanese but I am familiar with the language and I am certain that this man was feverishly explaining something to someone. Just as my hand slipped into my back pocket to pull out my keys to click the alarm the man pulls a complete stop on a dime 180 degree move and begins speaking completely fluent French as well as he spoke Japanese and his Japanese was impeccable. I thought “what the fuck?” Is this even suspicious? Had I seen too many James Bond movies where the villains always seemed to be some kind of Eastern European with neatly coiffed hair that could speak any language at will? For just a moment I started to question whether I had possible unconscious biases against people who spoke multiple languages and drove Subarus. But then… As I’m sitting the macaroni on the passenger seat I turn to the open car door of the brand new Subaru and there’s a woman who appears to be in her 60s that looks exactly like Jean Smarts’ character from her television show “Hacks”. She’s wearing an Armani type sweatsuit with several hundred thousands of dollars worth of jewelry. There was a ring on every finger and she’s wearing a gold chain that would make most rappers nuts shrivel with jealousy. Did I mention that all of her accoutrements appeared to be stuffed with diamonds? If you had ever had a conflict with anyone over “conflict diamonds” then you would surely have conflict with this woman. Now, her appearance coupled with her traveling companions exquisite linguistic skills is starting to paint a curious picture but it ain’t over. She’s on her cell phone feverishly explaining something to someone in German! I do not speak German but I am familiar with the language. If I had to guess and that is exactly what I’m doing, I would have to say that she was possibly Russian. I based that on the fact that I once lived in an area that was predominantly Russian and she looked and dressed very similar to some of the older women from that area. And I can’t leave this out, she’s wearing the biggest darkest most expensive sunglasses I’ve ever seen outside of Vogue magazine and it’s 8 o’clock in the morning. We were five blocks from the beach in Marina Del Rey California, it’s January and there was a fucking marine layer! What bright light was she protecting her eyes from? Maybe her diamonds?

Now I know it’s my American arrogance that’s been jammed between two slices of American ignorance to make a big fat “stupid” sandwich that makes me say this but, that was a lot of fucking languages coming out of the mouths of only two people who did not appear to ethnically match up with those languages. Like I said a big fat “stupid”sandwich but, there was something up I just couldn’t put my finger on it. And before you start believing that I am jumping the gun and reading into something where there’s nothing I have to throw out this statement, “I’m from LA!” Does that give me some kind of superpower? Fuck no! But, hear me out. “ I’m from LA“ is a kind of blanket statement that people from LA LA Land use to explain a lot of shit that we somehow have more experience in than people from other parts of the world. Like when people say the traffic is bad in Chicago someone from Los Angeles will chime in and say “ Chicago does have bad traffic but “I’m from LA” we invented traffic .” In this case it goes like this, I’ve been in LA long enough to know when some shit is about to happen. It’s like in the new Spider Man movie when Peter Parker is walking through the living room and he’s surrounded by villains that he believes are about to go straight but then his “Spidey” senses start tingling and his eyes begin scanning the room like it’s about to go down and then he shoots his web at Willem Dafoe when he’s located the source of his suspicions. If you’ve been living in Los Angeles long enough you develop that kind of sixth sense for the “pop off”. Any Angelino will tell you a story of such a situation. They’ll say that they were at a party and then a friend would come up to them and say “ girl, I don’t even know, but people is actin’ funny like some shit is about to pop off, let’s go!” Find someone from the city of angels and they’ll tell you it’s real.

So I sat there for two or three minutes pretending to fidget around in my car as I listened to these two people. I was trying to decipher anything that sounded remotely familiar to me but that good old American arrogance that prevented me from learning another language was just then biting me in the ass. I couldn’t make out one single word. So thanks for that America. Just as that came to mind I thought if something is about to happen what the fuck am I still doing here? And that’s when the “LA” in me was compelled to drive away.

As I sat at home at lunch and ate my overly priced gluten free boxed macaroni and cheese I wondered if somehow I’d become cynical and suspicious? Was this a sign of the Times? Had I allowed this to happen to myself? Why was it so easy for me to believe that anyone perfectly speaking multiple languages that might not have been their own while sitting in a grocery store parking lot with no groceries in a big black rented Subaru while wearing jewelry and accessories with a presumed worth of over half $1 million was up to no good? I mean…right? Right? Nah, “I’m from LA!” Some shit was about to pop off!

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