Yo Hitman

I’m working the bar, three big black guys sit down.

(Yes, brace yourself for potential racist-ish story).

They order drinks:  chilled Patrón with Corona and lime on side. Double Tito’s neat, with a Corona and lime on side. Double Tito’s with exorbitant amount of Rose’s Lime, on the rocks, with a Heinekin on the side.

We get to chatting, the guys are from Chi-Town. That’s what cool people call Chicago. Like you’d say “Frisco.”  We get quickly on the topic of TV shows, one of the guys says to me, have you seen the show Power?  I say, is that the one with all the black people in it?  He says, enthusiastically, yeah!  I say, with a straight face, no. I wouldn’t like that. I don’t like black people.

He takes a pause, then busts out laughing. He hits his friend next to him. DID YOU HEAR WHAT HE SAID?!?!  He said he doesn’t like black people!!!

I say, I’m kidding. I like black people. I had a friend in elementary school that was black named Addaryl.

It’s pretty slow, I’m able to focus on the guys. They’re in town for a bachelor party, then a wedding. I’m like, hang on. Friday night, you have the bachelor party, then Saturday, you have the wedding?  That’s fucked up.

After the fifth shot of Patrón, one of the guys starts calling me Hitman. Yo, Hitman!  Get me another Corona! You want a lime in that?  Yeah, get me a lime, Hitman.

By the end of it, Chicago is hammered. Mr Patrón is like, yo Hitman. You my Ni**a. I love you, man. And I’m like,

If I wasn’t white, I’d say the same thing back at you.





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