the NEW Humboldt Inn: I ain't no sellout

I usually go right to bed after these experiences which probably represents a shift in my life. In Florida, whenever something ridiculous happened, the first thing I did would be to come and type into this box so everyone could read. That stopped being necessary in Buff and NYC, since I could just tell my lil bro and sis or my lil cuzzes or Vino or whomever.

But yesterday was a bit of watershed moment for me in my short period of Buff-entertainment.

My nigga Jathan is basically my only single friend left in Buff. Everyone else has either moved or gotten married or never lived in Buff to begin with. So, he's been the only kat I've hung with on the reg, since I've been back. We thought it be fitting to go kop some elixirs before skate outta town. The night began at Bullfeathers, usually a pretty lowkey spot with a serviceable jukebox...except, this night it was packed with nearby college students who had the juke on lock, playing a nauseating mix of Akon, Metallica and LL Cool J. The Roots made a brief appearance in someone's playlist. Things were looking up, then "Smack That" followed and I furrowed my brow, swigged my cognac and began a lamentation.

As more drunk girls with vodka breath kept bumping into me like I wasnt there and more jukebox-travesties kept slicing through my ears, we decided to jetski on outta JPs. Where to? We didnt know. Then I remember that my girl Tara bartended at the Humbold Inn. For those not familiar with Buffalo, you should know that the Humboldt Inn, for 90% of my life, was like a senior citizen hangout. This is where a 50-year-old mack-daddy (the slick nigga who goes heavy on the cologne, wears his shirt unbuttoned down to the tip of his belly, maybe a few gold teeth, possibly a top hat, maybe a cane, definitely an liquor habit) can spit sinserious game at some old gals (nasty, horny older women that knew how to do all the latest dances, primarily the tootsie-roll and Da Butt). When you would be driving down E Delavan at night and cars were parked on both sides of the expressway-overpass, then you knew that the socio-cultural phenomenon that is the Humboldt Inn was poppin and all of Buffalo's finest old swingers had descended on this lil bar to comprise a real life middle-age meat market, where two 50-year-olds might be grinding to Earth Wind & Fire, while Cisco James is kickin it to Etta Scott, tryin to get him some poon-tang.

But dig...somewhere along the way, they switched the steez up. So much has changed in Buff since I left in 2000. There are many more options for the average young person -- from your standard bar on Chippewa to the hipper spots along Elmwood or around Allen. But its still a desolate wasteland for "those" kinda blacks. When I say "those", I mean niggas that can't move in and out of different lanes. "These" kinda blacks only wanna be around other blacks in environments that are...ghetto (ouch! can't stand that word, sometimes). You put one of these niggas in a regular pub, a college bar or a lounge and his brown eyes might start bulging out of his head. Thats just how it goes. I guess there isnt anything wrong with that...but then again, I wish it weren't that way. There's something really fulfilling about stepping out and hittin a spot that has a truly "mixed" crowd...not mixed as in, a bunch of mulattos are walkin around...mixed as in people from diff races and maybe even socio-economic stratas are together havin a good time. (But there's also something exhilarating about steppin into a spot where the majority of the folks there are similar to you..ie..like the same music, same educational level, similar outlook on life, etc).

Back to the NEW Humboldt Inn....

Last year, my sister called me. She had arrived in town a couple days before I did and she was heading out with one of her old friends. I asked where they were going and she said "Toomy's taking me to the Humboldt Inn." I laughed so hard I almost got throat cancer. I'm thinking, "I know we're mature adults now...but what are you young ladies gonna do, surrounded by old men that look like John Witherspoon and smell like english leather cologne?" That's when Lyd hit me with the Buffalo-scene revelation. She was like, "Nah...Toomy said its for us now. We'll see." Lyd's review of the night was easy to predict: "Duuuude, that spot was so ghetto! Classic Buffalo-black!" Weeks later, I got up with my girl Nish while she was visiting Sarasota. She spoke of going back home and hitting the NEW Humboldt Inn. She seemed amused by it all. She even described the hierarchy and how the spot was socially-sectioned: "OK, all the so-called ballers were in this one section, the drug-dealers' girlfriends were over in this part." I was fascinated. So when I visited my girl Tara's crib for a gathering she threw and she told me she bartended there on Thursdays...I was like, "I gotta check this out before I leave Buffalo."

Well, that day arrived yesterday. The first thing I asked the doorman was the most important question of the night: "Is Tara working tonight?" That's what this whole thing was about. Needless to say, I didnt wanna be in this spot if my girl wasnt bartending. The doorman replied: "You mean the light-skinned girl?" I'm thinking to myself: "Well, Tara is light-skinned." So Jathan and I get frisked (the first sign that you're in one of "those" spots) and head in. I'm looking for Tara...no dice. Infuriated, I go up to the bar and ask one of the servers, "Is Tara working tonight?" Turns out she had left at 10pm. At this point I'm ready to jet. No need for me to stay. Then the server hits us with this "But since yall here, yall might as well buy a drink and chill." Huh? Jathan surveys the scene and says, "I kinda wanna soak this in while I have the chance." So I say, "If yall pour a good drink we'll stay for one. Do you pour good drinks?" She comes back with about a half-shot of cognac, tastefully presented in those little plastic cups you get at the dollar store. But the damage was done, from that point forward Jathan and I sat back and observed the goings-on.

I consistently try to do the whole "looking-glass self" thing and make sure I'm not turning into the OTHER kind of "those" niggas. The siddity nigga. The nigga that cant pump with his people. Living in DC, you can insulate yourself in the black-bourgosie culture and it can eff u up. But even still, certain scenes can make u say some crazy things. Jathan hit me with a classic lug about 10 minutes into our stay, after a d-boy walked by with a big-tummy chick in a jean onesie on his arm...J said, "I hate going to spots where I look around and realize that I'm just a better person than everyone in here." I cracked up when he said it, because it was so haughty, but might have been true. My superiority-complex was raging uncontrollably for a good 15 minutes. It was also unsettling for girls in there 20s to walk by, smile at me and be missing a tooth. Times like those make you come to a full realization that we need some universal health care up in this bish.

The music was atrocious. When "Wifey" by Next is playing and the night's emcee is woofing on the mic, you're not in the proper establishment. I also got the feeling that if I walked up to ANY of the women in the spot and asked them to marry me that 1.) they'd accept with only minimal cajoling..and 2.) I'd be saving their lives. I mean, I really wanted to be on some Captain Save-a-Ho for real. I also got the feeling that if there were 100 women in that spot, they had probably popped out a combined 300 kids and i didnt see a single wedding ring. Some of the men probably had babies by multiple women that were in the spot. It was just such a classic scene.

After we finished our half-shot of yak, we skated out the door and headed to Staples on Allen, a spot my girl put me onto last weekend. We each kopped a specialty brew and the bartender hooked us with a free shot of Wild Turkey. That was so much more my scene than the NEW Humboldt Inn.

I dont know yall...I watch Flav of Love and I Love New York (even though Chuck D has implicitly told me that these shows are sinister tools)...I'm runnin from my people at the NEW Humboldt Inn...if I don't watch it, I might become a sellout. I'm bout hop in my whip, though, and head to the DMV...best believe By All Means Necessary will be playin on the pod.