darrell chane

went to the court building to contest a $436 ticket for safely crossing train tracks while a warning system was blinking…standing in the long imperceptibly moving line to set a date to see a judge…about 20 people from the clerk’s window when a scruffy rangy dark ass gangbanger about 10 years my junior shuffles onto the scene.

He is wearing a dirty fitted cap with red brim, a “night gown” of a white tee shirt, enormous red plaid shorts and red tartan bathroom slippers with dirty white socks. His equally rangy underfed babies mother (Latino) is gliding behind him, making no noise. She is carrying their two cute kids. They deposit themselves on a court bench parallel to the line.

Two fellow Africans, a light pretty boy motorcycle riding brother and a dark tall voluptuous Coach emblem rocking sister, (there is a Latino couple with a baby between us) who know each other from their neighborhood and have struck up a light hearted conversation about what traffic violation landed them in the line to forever.

The half pint gangster butts into their conversation. The conversation pair begrudgingly give half pint some acknowledgement, not wanting to embarrass his black ass in public. He apparently lives in the same neighborhood that they do.

They go back to their conversation. I am reading the Preacher trade paperback that I threw in my bag. Half Pint announces loudly that he is going to “merge” into the line right behind the conversation pair.

The Latino couple don’t speak much English and must chalk this up to “aggin shit”

I have been waiting for damn near an hour and a half in this line and tell half pint to step to the back of the line.

He raises eyebrows, mad dogging. I give him the “fool please” face and repeat my comment - not moving from my spot on the wall. He tells me to leave it alone. I tell him he must be out of his natural mind. He repeats with menace that I don’t want to get him “cranked up”. I tell him “and what?!”. He shifts positions, using his outside voice, trying to intimidate me. I laugh. He invites me outside for fisticuffs. I tell him he must be the dumbest person in the world trying to bang in a court house. He repeats his threats of violence. I remind him of the cameras and police officers. I shake my head and repeat that he should take his place in the back of the line since all the rest of the folks behind me seem to have cottoned onto that simple instruction. He whines, saying that he will get an arrest warrant if he stays at the back of the line. I tell him too bad. He growls again calls me “nigga” repeatedly. I inform him that he is to address me as a man for i am not a “nigga”. He dismisses me and tries to loud talk me. I repeat my “get your ass to the back of the line” line. He scowls. Coach sister announces that half pint shouldn’t talk to me like he is. Half Pint laughs her off and mockingly asks if she is going to get the police. She says she is. He laughs again. She sets off in the direction of the authorities. He continues to scowl and stare at me. I have since put my book away and I am staring daggers right back at him.

He has a rose inked on his neck with the word “Pasadena” above it. I figure him for a local Blood. He is an embarrassment to his gang most likely. Who the F attempts to bang in a courthouse?

At this point, an older alcoholic gangbanger (must be in his late 40’s) in worse for wear braids and a Hawaiian shirt - grabs Half Pint and takes him to the front of the line to intimidate someone in full view of the clerks to surrender their place in line. This person, who identifies as white, protests and is immediately “rescued” from Alkie and Half Pint by a strapping Sherrifs Dept employee.

Alkie is escorted from the building

Coach sister was bringing this Sherrifs fellow to our little morass initially but being delayed by the front of the line situation. When he arrives, he asks what is going on. Coach sister tells him that I was being threatened. Half Pint is dumbfounded, looking at me. I tell him he has a choice of how he can let this play out. He can get to the back of the line or I can tell the officer something. Half Pint decides to give up on the intimidation of me.

He turns his attentions to Coach sister and as the deputy leaves, he begins calling her all sorts of names. She gives as good as she gets and ends up clowning his dumb ass.

His epithet vocabulary seems to consist of “bitch”, “nigga”, “fucking”, “broke” and “black”. At one point, he supposedly makes a cell phone call and is clowning her to a non existent person on the other end of the line. He brags about his car and how it is sitting on “sixes”. I snort with derisive laughter. He won’t meet my gaze now. She forces him to admit that it isn’t his car after all but his babies mother. She is sitting there smiling stupidly after 500 “bitches” run from his mouth.

Coach sister wins the battle. Half Pint packs up his family and stalks out of the courthouse. I am still shaking my head. Everyone in line laughs about the experience nervously afterwards.