A film about African-American health disparities…why they exist and what can be done about it.
I’ve been standing in line for about 15 minutes.
Everyone in front of me seemed comfortable. They seem like they’ve done this before.
The longer I stood there, the less comfortable I felt. I was getting a little nervous, and I didn’t know what to expect but I knew this was something I had to do.
The weather wasn’t helping me feel either. It was spring in New York City at ten o’clock at night and this tropics island girl was just not used to the standing in the chilly weather for long.
It also didn’t help I had a lot of trouble trying to get to the location. I got lost walking the endless blocks of the city while trying to pretend to know where I’m going, occasionally sneaking a peek at the map and instructions I printed out. (I’m not a big fan of fancy gadgets, they can die on you.) See, I didn’t want people to know I’m not from around there because in my mind that would open the floodgates to endless unsavory possibilities. I don’t want to make myself look like an easy target for crime and shit.
People say it’s easy to find your way around New York City. Just look at the street signs, they said, it’s all a systematic and intuitive grid, they said in guidebooks.
Well, them guidebooks didn’t tell you that the signs are positioned to correspond with the street it’s aligned to, and not the direction you’re looking at. Maybe it’s just me but you know something else they don’t tell you? Google map tells you where is the subway station is but it doesn’t tell me where the entrance to the station is -_-
(Okay right now I know you’re thinking don’t you know there’s an app for that. I don’t just trust gadgets. Well my gadget-free navigation did get me to the spot eventually and there I was still in line and I’m thinking what’s taking so long.
And then. A loud booming voice from the front of the line went, “ Hello!” Everyone fell silent and cranked their necks to see the source of the intimidating presence.
“Listen. We do this like a drug deal. You give me the money, and you’re in. You give me trouble, you’re staying out here. Cash only!”
“Oh crap. ” I thought to myself. I hope he won’t chew me out for paying with a hundred dollar bill.
And I hope he has change.
I got to the front of the line and handed him the cash. He looked at it and said in a much kinder and less intimidating voice, “Damn this is the first time anyone gave me a hundred dollar bill for this.”
“Oh I’m sorry. That’s all I have.” I said with a trace of worry and nervousness.
“You don’t have to apologize” he said as he handed me my change and let me in the venue.
And there I was.
A life goal fulfilled.
An item to strike off my bucket list.
I’ve always wanted to do this! This was an exciting accomplishment in life.
I was in the Nuyorican Poets Café in East Village in New York City on a Friday night, to watch their renowned poetry slam.
Before the poetry slam took place, the hosts did a roll call for every borough in the city. Do we have anyone from here Queens tonight? Do we have any one from The Bronx? Brooklyn? Harlem?
And then she asked Do we have any out of town folks here tonight? Members of the audience yelled out the far away places they are from. Europe, Australia, some other far away places.
I wait patiently for the chance to holler, “Singapore!”
“We’ve got Singapore in the house tonight! And the host asked, And how long did it take you to get here?”
“Like 21 hours!” I said.
“Damn that’s a really long flight!” she said.
It sure was.
And it was all worth it.