Now, as far as where in the Sam hell your Huck-Finn azz was/IS going (in life), Cocoa has no clue. At first glance, my boy Vic and I assumed that like all the other teens on the train, you were also headed to school, where you could receive some level of education, which would one day help you compile a decent resume, because you would actually like to apply what you learned in school to the rest of your life and get a job, right?
Well, in spite of our education, common sense and combined 61 years spent on this earth, your now-famed exit from the subway – and thank God, our lives – taught the both of us we still have a LOT to learn:
“Ooey...ooey...scooze me. Scooze me, ya'll, I godda ged off. Scooze me ebbybodee…."If the train would have been any quieter at this horrific moment in Negra time, I would have been deaf. Had it been any more packed, I would have been a sardine in hot sauce. And, had I been any more disgusted and utterly amazed at what I’m sure you felt was a “cute” little speech impediment, I would have been a blonde, blue-blooded, rich b!tch from Boston named Buffy.
Forgive me if I seem a tad harsh, but the complete absence of cotton gins, burlap “slacks,” Negro spirituals and whips really had me confused as to the origins of your dialect. Whether from the Continent, the Islands or the South, I would hope that your mother, mammy, mami, mom, mommy or mama did not teach you to talk like so.
So, unless you plan to earn a living by playing an extra in EVERY slave epic made for the big screen, working the chitterling circuit, or by miming your way toward a paycheck, please drop ignant speech. It is not cute.