Sunday, January 24, 2010

Hallal Hallal Beer

Three years ago I was given a ticket for an open container.  I had gotten off work and just like I had done every Saturday night/Sunday morning I got one single Michelob Ultra in a brown bag, and walked home with it down Flatbush Avenue and toward my apartment four blocks down.  It was always in a bag and I was never causing a problem.  I know what you’re thinking…it’s Sunday morning, before 12 it’s illegal for stores to purchase beer.  I figured out a code in NYC, a password if you will.  I’m apprehensive talking about it, because once the secret is out, it’s out and everyone and their mother will be Hallal Hallal beering.  Hallal Hallal Beering you ask?  That’s the password.  I saw a man at 9 am in a Arab convenience store winking at the cashier and whispering “Hallal-Hallal-beer,” the cashier winked back and put the beer in a bag and told him to hide it on the way home.  Well I’m always looking for a way around things, a way in, a way no one else can know.  I found my way that Sunday, and for many other Sundays.  That is until I got that ticket.  

I got a 50-dollar summons for having a $1.59 beer on the street at 7 in the morning after a long day/nights work.  I deserved it.  It wasn’t crack.   I wasn’t carrying a weapon.  I just, wanted a beer to sip on as I walked home and thought about the week I had just finished, and the week I was about to start.  I was doing the Man-Walk.  We all do I. I got a ticket.  

I missed the court date for deep personal reasons and a warrant was issued for my arrest, two years ago, and I up until recently was a wanted man.  I kept it secret, because I was embarrassed, but now that I have cleared up the issue and it’s like it never happened I could talk about it.  I needed to save money for a lawyer and go turn myself in and meet a judge and explain myself, for which I did.  I get out of things, it’s my thing.  

For three years though I have been walking around, freaking out, dodging the police, not carrying a bag so I don’t get asked to go to one of those, “free to look in your bag tables in the subway”.  I know, silly, but I had not cleared this up.  I was afraid that I was never going to have the availability of opening my own bar, meeting my wife, dancing, getting a loan for a ride on lawn mower ect. Also I was afraid that the life I live/lead would be put t a stop.  It has not, I’m free and clear, with no record. I am writing about it.

The moral of the story is.  Hallal Hallal beering is a great thing, but drinking on the street is illegal, even if the beer is in a bag, and you’re white.  It was a $750.00 beer in the end, but I have my freedom now and for a while I was scared I would not, because of a beer, because of the Man-Walk.  I do the Man-Walk sitting down now.  I just did it right now, and you’re reading it.  Once again….Welcome to my world.  It’s great.  It’s interesting.  

“Every man has his sidewalk dance.”


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