Dear Irene,

Often times people come and go from our lives; we hear warnings – things such as “Don’t talk to so and so….” or “….is bad news.” Channels 2,4,5,7,9 and Pix 11 said that “that Irene…don’t fuck with her.  She a bad bitch.”  I mean, you know she a bad bitch when that Today Show weatherman stops wishing 106 year old white women happy birthday and tells you to stock up on Diet Coke and Dr. Pepper.

And so I made plans to. Especially after the earthquake Tuesday that didn’t give me a cigarette or its phone number after rocking my world.  So… in the interest of being prepared, I made plans with a friend to ride out the storm with him.  I was hoping to leave my apartment uptown at 10 am, well in time of the eminent subway shutdown that was to begin at 12.  According to the news – broadcast and print – the trains would be done about 5 and all transit (trains, buses, dunebuggies et al.) would be finito by 8 pm. Which was ok, because if by 8 pm I was out on the street, I’d only need an umbrella or a pair of ruby red slippers to get anywhere.  But what could go wrong, plans were confirmed. The hatches were just about shuttered.

BuT upon the day of the storm, my friend, well he couldn’t be found.  My confirmation texts were left unconfirmed.  He was “distracted.”  Or so I found out at via a text timestamped 10:57.  Thus,   I rudely was “distracted” out of spite for an hour or so mysel I went to get g roceries at timestamp 1:07,only to find out at timestamp 1:57- the subway system was already shut down.  Red tape, cops at the turnsiles- shut the fuck down. You would have thought a triple homicide had happened on the platform or that that  Sandra Bullock woman was commanderring a stolen train car. Travelling by subway was over.

Life washard. I had 70 blocks to travel with grocery bags and that was before I met Crackie. I didn’t know that you had sent one of your girlfriends to hold your seat at the bar Irene.  I mean, Crackie – Black, emaciated missing a few teeth, she was an ebony vision of the crack epidemic of the 80’s.  But Irene, your friend kept me company speed walking with me from one subway stop to the next. She was good company, keeping me distracted from the awful single bagging I got at the grocery store.  I almost lost a 3.7 oz single serving of Haagen-Das Ice Cream somewhere like 4 times.  And the guy at 7/11 I asked for a bag was either being stingy or green – He only gave me one flimsy bag that fell apart.

However, Crackie stayed by my side.  And when it became painfully obvious that we weren’t going to get a train or bus she suggested we splurge on a cab.  Perhaps I should have reconsidered splurging with a crackhead.

To be continued