"doing something" usually means City Place

South fucking Florida man! No matter where I go, I still love it here, 95 degree weather and all. Last night my brother and I went downtown. In WPB if you don't do hard drugs, "doing something" usually means City Place. Lame, but this town is also pretty lame so what can you do. Anyway, City Place had no parking except the parking garage, which is expensive. It was Friday night, and there was some sort of weird foreign music playing and I guess a lot of people wanted to hear it. God only knows why though, it was in a strange language and the beat sounded scientifically formulated to incite the worst headache ever in anyone who walked past. Technoish bullshit, but with a whiny voice. Lawdy lawd.

So, we drove back to Shithole Street (Clematis) and parked somewhere around there. Clematis was the original WPB downtown, but once City Place got built some stores on Clematis started to close down cuz they couldn't deal with the competition. Once stores closed down, scary homeless people started hanging around in front of the empty places, because there were no business owners to call the police. The more stores closed, the more scary homeless people came and the more scary homeless people came, the more stores closed. Now there's one white club, one black club, and an Irish pub left on the whole damn street. So it's a shithole.

You'd think that we'd go to park there and realize "hey this place is a shithole! Filled with scary jolly African-Americans! Let's park in the parking garage!" But no, we wanted to save a couple bucks by being at the parking meter. Some dude had given be 35c for a Newport earlier in the night anyway so we just went ahead and parked right off Clematis, on one of them flower streets. We went to City Place and had about as much fun as there is to be had there when you have no money. Lucas got us lost twice- once in downtown and once on the way back from City Place. When we finally made it back (me saying "no, dude! It's fuckin THIS way!" and him not listening; the original prediction was that we'd be in the intercoastal inside of 15 minutes) we realized that parking in downtown was a bad idea- somebody had bashed one of the taillights in.

At first we figured someone had pulled out wrong (we were parallel parked) and smashed it with his car. But that didn't make sense either, because it wasn't the driver-side taillight that was fucked, it was the one closest to the curb. It could have been a car that jumped onto the curb cause he was a dumbass and didn't know how to parallel park, but we started thinking that some asshole just smashed it in just for the hell of it. If that was true, there are three assumptions that can be made about the individual who did such a thing, in that specific area. We can pretty much assume that person is a) male b) young and c) black. Sure one or more of those COULD be wrong, but anyone honest knows it's not fucking likely.

So the taillight still turned on (it's just the casing that's cracked and it's probably gonna cost a goddamn fortune) so we could drive home without fear of the police- well, no more than my normal fear any time I see a cop or cop car. Fucking niggers huh?