Friday Night in Harlem, USA

I spent Friday night watching the daughter of a family friend perform in her acting school's performance of Twelve Angry Women. That would be Twelve Angry Men, but with a female cast. And yes, you are not mistaken - acting school means student acting. Let's just say that I am a good daughter and family friend. When I got home to Harlem, I was in the mood for a reward, so I stopped in the nearest bodega for a look-see. My quarry eluded me, so I headed to a bodega on the next block.

Keep in mind it's after midnight on a Friday night on 125th St; the 1 train isn't stopping on my block because of construction, so I'm walking west from the A train on St. Nicholas and getting some strange looks from people on the street unnerved by my brazen public whiteness. I keep my head down and avoid the sidelong glances, and make my way to another bodega. No dice; it's Vanilla Swiss Almond or bust, and now I'm on a mission. I decide to head up Old Broadway to another bodega on 126th. I haven't ever actually been in there, because it's off the main street and seemed kind of sketchy, but I see some other people walking on the street and decide that it should be okay.

Strangely, as I'm heading to the bodega I see a guy across the street heading the same direction, and another guy walking toward me, and they're BOTH white boys in the hood. This is noteworthy because it's latenight in Harlem USA and when I moved here a couple of years ago, that would never have happened. I slip by a group of teenagers outside the bodega and some girls doing a play-by-play of a recent fight sitting on the stoop nearby, and head inside. I decide to settle for Mint Chip and pay an outrageous $4, largely unnoticed by two guys buying Black & Milds next to me.

I head out the door and as I walk by the group of teenagers on the corner, their conversation lags and I feel their eyes on me. I keep walking, and from behind me I hear one guy, in a tone that sounds half disgusted, half amazed, say, "FUCK! There's another one!"

Gentrification, y'all. It ain't no joke.