“Where ‘we’ first met, (pic above is corner of Magnolia Ave. & W. 24th St. in DTLA).”
“It was a clear black night, a clear white moon
Rafaelito was on the streets, trying to consume
some skirts for the eve, so I can get some funk
just rollin in my ride, chillin all alone…”
(I had to get that out of my system as I prepare for my side of the story)…
College… 2003… I use-to do a lil’ bit (wink) of partying in Downtown LA, right close-by to USC main campus. I remember it was an average day like most others. It was on the second floor dorm/apartment of a couple of then friends who attended SC, (Magnolia Ave., and W. 24th St.). I had absolutely no clue, that my life was about to change… Forever (said in a loud/hard hush)…
I remember walking up the stairs to get to my average college party. No clue what was about to happen next. I opened the front door to the second floor apartment. It opened up to the tiny hallway that connected two bedrooms, corner bathroom, and a make-shift living-room/bedroom. The place was packed, and the party was ‘jumpin’!
I walked through the party (a couple steps) and said “wussup” to half a dozen party-peeps… The party was way too crowded so I tried to find some relief in the kitchen, (the tiniest kitchen ever built). There… There is where I laid eyes on “her.”
The prettiest brown girl in the whole wide world…
The moment I laid eyes on her, I knew immediately I did NOT want to speak to her. “She’s WAAAY out of my league,” I exclaimed inside my head! But I couldn’t take my eyes off her! I continued to say hello to a few other friends, but I could have been saying hello to a box of cereal (for all I cared), because I was completely and utterly transfixed on “her.”
She was wearing a fitted body-suit with baggy jeans towards bottom, fitted at waist. Her hair was pulled-back in a pony-tail, exposing her pretty little face. The icing on the cake for me were her acrylic nails. Her “acrylics,” complimented her excessive “talking-with-her-hands,” gift/curse, so they inevitably lingered in my mind, (and still-do to this day).
I asked a couple of friends who “she” was. I came to find-out “her,” name was Ruby Rose. I also learned that she was “reserved,” for someone else. Now… When most other people think of the word, “reserved,” I imagine they probably think of the figurative, “empty table ‘they’ can’t sit at because someone else is going to be coming along and taking it at any moment now...” But when I think of the word, “reserved,” I think of, “thee opportunity cost forgone of me having the time of my LIFE at this ‘special’ table, and drinks are on whoever made the reservation!”
I stepped-up to the “reserved” table…
The rest is history…
(drops mic on ground, thud, feedback, hand wide-open, palm down, arm outstretched, wins MC battle…)