13 April 2016

Enter the Dragón

(Posts are infrequent because there isn't much to report.)
I live in a moderately shady neighborhood. Not much in the way of street crime but there are a lot of motels that rent by the week, drug-addicted homeless, mentally ill homeless, and local trash that doesn't bother cleaning up after their dog. So I see a lot of weird shit, both literally and figuratively. A surprising amount, considering that the area is largely suburban, with a few streets zoned for shopping and food and a few others zoned for industry stuff like auto shops and furniture shops and offices.

Dining at the mexican eatery just around the corner is always interesting. The fajitas are adequate, and it draws a mixed group of white collar office types, some blue collar types, students, and whatever homeless guy felt like a burrito that day. Winos having an argument on the lawn while a table of students enjoy taco Tuesday is, well, typical Tuesday. What was not typical was the kid walking down the street with nunchucks in his back pocket (or 'nunchaku', if you're that person). Skinny jeans, hoodie, and nunchucks, all casual like. You know, just in case you need to get down with some kung fu on your way to the burrito spot? No idea. It was pretty great.

I have never owned nunchucks but coveted them as a young person, even though you were more likely to hit yourself than someone else. And - it bears mentioning - they aren't very concealable. And I'm also not sure they are strictly legal. They are less illegal than brass knuckles, but maybe more illegal than a pocketknife, so I guess homie was on his way to/from martial arts school and kept his clothes/pads/gear onsite but didn't have room to store his 'deadly' weapon. We'll never know.

The fajitas were pretty good, btw.

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