Bushwick Bill ('member him?)

That's right, ladies and gentlemen.... you heard it here first: Bushwick Bill is back on the scene, and I saw him FIRSTHAND at the Olive Garden on Mercury Boulevard in Hampton, Virginia. Yeah, yeah, I know. Bushwick Bill and the other members of the SUPERHOT (not!) Geto Boys bit the dust in the year 1993, but I'm telling you: I saw him KILLING some dry ass breadsticks and some Olive Garden salad with one olive (yall know I'm right!). Here's how it went...
My girlfriend and I were having lunch this afternoon following yet another wonderful Founder's Day celebration (you HU heads can probably feel me on that). We were just shooting the breeze, laughing it up, when we she saw this guy and his homeboy come in and sit at the table next to us. Now ol' boy #2 (or Bushwick Bill, as he will become affectionately known from now on) was in a wheelchair. Now before I go any further, I feel that I have to speak in my defense. I am an equal opportunity dater. Big or small, tall or not so tall, dark skinned, light skinned, blue collar or white.... I TRY to approach every encounter with an open mind. So the fact that this guy just happened to be in a wheelchair is NOT the issue - HONESTLY. But I will say that it did not really help his cause at all. Okay, now back to the story.
My girlfriend Ihuoma is a joker. I'm talking about the funniest person I know besides my PYT - but he's in a league all his own. She will turn something as mundane as a walk in the park into the funniest thing you've heard since "The Wayne Brady" skit on Chappelle Show (thanks for putting me on to that!). So when she saw Bushwick, she said, "Does he have on LOUIS VUITTON LOAFERS??????" Now that was enough to make me stop what I was doing and turn around. This brother had on quite possibly the fakest Louis Vuitton shoes either of us had ever seen. I'm talking about the kind of "Flouis Buitton" you can only get at Ming Na's House of Beauty and Hair Weave. But it's cool - everybody has their own thing, so we chuckled about it and kept it moving.
About twenty minutes later we were laughing about something else ridiculous (probably one of our classmates' dry ass lips or the latest response to that Cam'rom bull...), when I saw her go stiff. I mean she stopped taling in the middle of her sentence and just froze. Before I could ask her what was wrong, I caught movement in my periphery. Bushwick Bill was coming - I mean ROLLING - up on us at about 30 mph, and then he coasted the rest of the way until he came to a complete stop right next to my chair. Before he even opened his mouth, I knew we were in trouble because he smelled like every bottle of cologne on sale at Nordstron plus a little armpit funk mixed in for good measure. Ihuoma and I looked at each other, and she just put her head down a little. I looked at him, and he said, "Hey ladies. My name is Damon. I looked over and saw you, and I just wanted to know if I could have your phone number?" I was so busy praying that he was talking to my girlfriend and not me, that I almost missed what he said. So I said, "MY phone number?" and he said, "Yes." I made the very serious mistake of looking at Ihuoma again, and she was staring at her plate so hard that I thought she was trying to figure out a way to jump inside. I was so stunned that I murmured some foolishness about being married and my husband not appreciating me giving OUR number out to some random man (yes, I at least had some sort of ring on my left hand to back this up). So Billy (or Damon, as HE would like to be called) said "Well, thank you for your time, and it was a pleasure meeting you" at which point he took off (again at 30 mph) back to his table. All we could do was look at each other, Ihuoma and I...... neither of us wanted to laugh because we knew he would be looking at us, but we were so stunned by the encounter that we didn't know what else to do. So I did the only thing I could think of: I called my PYT. "Uh, babe....... I ummm...... uhhhh....... you won't believe..... I...... uhhh..." and then I just handed the phone to Ihuoma. Only she could tell the story the way that it needed to be told, and unless he heard it from her first, he would just think that I was making the whole thing up. By the time he finished laughing (and offering to come up there to be my ignorant, not-so-understanding husband), he said, "Well - at least men think you're hot."
And that, my friends, is the crux (yes, I said CRUX in every day conversation!) of the problem. A REALLY unattractive guy with terrible cologne and a wheelchair rolled up on me (literally!) in a restaurant and asked me for my phone number. No pleasantries, no small talk, just a straight request: CAN I HAVE YOUR PHONE NUMBER? Now I think I'm a pretty good looking chick, and I've been told that I can hold my own on the block. So why is it that of ALL the men in Olive Garden today I had to get Bushwick Bill??????? I wasn't even looking for a pickup - I'm quite content with being the Old School fantasy of my PYT - but is it too much to ask that someone even REMOTELY attractive would find me desirable? Someone.. ANYONE???????
So this is how I spent a perfectly good Sunday afternoon: I am now the laughingstock of my very small circle of friends. I attracted the attention of a very odd little man, I caused my friend to have one less piece of furniture in his house (separate story all together), but for all you Geto Boys fans out there: at least you now know that Bushwick Bill is alive and well and KICKIN' it - well, sort of - in the Commonwealth. If only I could say that my mind was playin tricks on me.....