Pete â€¦ loud â€¦ but nice. Turkish is his â€™babyâ€™ has â€˜been with himÂ for 15 yearsâ€™. Turkish looked up at me from Peteâ€™s lap. Cute.
â€œYou donâ€™t sound like youâ€™re from Americaâ€
â€œWhatâ€™s it like?â€
â€¦ staccato questions â€“ like gunfire.
â€œNever been myself â€¦ my brother went to New York a couple of years ago. Had a great time, other than being manhandled by the police.â€
I stopped and looked at him. An older gentleman, with that rough London accent that would have fitted into a movie like â€˜The Long Good Fridayâ€™. (Excellent movie BTW â€“ if a tad dated.)
â€œSeriously?â€ I asked.
â€œYeah,â€ he said â€ up in Harlem. My Brothers mad on Jazz, so someone bundled him in a cab and told the driver to take him up to Harlem. He had a great time. Only white bloke in the entire place and the Jazz was amazing. Well, thatâ€™s what the brother said, i donâ€™t know. I wasnâ€™t there.
â€œYeah that area is great for music, sounds a fun time â€¦ what went wrong?â€
â€œWell, it turns out that he was the only white boy and not just in the club! When he left, a police car driving by saw him and they thought he didnâ€™t â€˜look rightâ€™, so pulled over and had him against a wall in seconds.â€
He went on â€¦. â€œOnce they heard him talk, the penny must have dropped â€¦ so sent him on his way, but they told him he wasnâ€™t in the right neighborhood â€“ so donâ€™t come back.â€
â€œSo he didnâ€™t, not even to America. Blimey that President of theirs talks about â€˜no goâ€™ areas in London â€¦ what a load of bollocks, I think he got confused with New York.â€
â€œSo would you go to America?â€ I asked?.
â€œMe? No mate. Not me. My brothers a big bloke and if that can happen to him â€“ Iâ€™m not gonna risk it â€¦ Iâ€™m 76 now, not as quick on my feet as I used to be.â€
â€œBut thatâ€™s a pretty unusual case.â€
â€œProbably.â€ he said, â€œbut why risk it? Whatâ€™s America got that I need â€“ let alone want?â€
A little piece of you
The little peace in me
For this is not America