White Girls In Harlem

I should probably let Jen post this story, since it actually happened to her, but...

so yesterday, I'm meeting Jen at the subway station near our home with her flip-flops in my hand because she made the poor decision to wear high heels while walking into work, which promptly gave her a pair of blisters the size of Brooklyn on her heels...can someone please tell me why women feel forced to wear what must be HORRENDOUSLY uncomfortable shoes all in the name of fashion? I'll never understand that..."hey, my feet are swollen and my left ring toe feels like its about to come flying off, but look how cute these shoes are!!"....sheesh...but I digress...

Anyways...so being the dutiful husband I am, and not wanting her to hurt her feet of porcelain anymore than she already has, I head to the station with her flip-flops as instructed, and am waiting when I hear over the loudspeaker that there are problems with the A train due to some police activity between 145th and 168 streets, and there are "significant delays"

So now I'm expecting a call from her to let me know where she's stuck, and how she's going to get home, and here's the call and....

"Baby...I'm terrified...I'm in the middle of Harlem and I don't know what to do!"

Now.....

lets imagine the whitest girl we all know shuffling around the streets of Harlem at 830pm with her Coach purse at her side. Scary, eh??

Well, after walking around for a bit ("hey, there's the Apollo Theatre") she makes her way to a bus stop and gets on JUST before it takes off...whooshing her away from Harlem and taking her north to home, safe and sound...

The next time this happens, (and you just KNOW there will be a next time), I'm telling her to work on her bad-ass, "don't F with me" face and possibly some gangster lingo to help her through...hell, maybe I'll even meet her down there and we'll catch the show at the Apollo....

=)

Mike