Promise Fulfilled (or, Nine Lives)

Yo people, I told you in my penultimate post that I was gonna fill you in on the happenings of Saturday night. Since I didn't fulfill that promise in my last post, I'm gonna do it now.

I caught the EL to Frankford Transportation Center. I got there a few minutes early, so I just hung out at a bus shelter at the corner where Bustleton and Frankford Avenues intersect with Bridge Street.

After a few minutes, I saw Mike's red pick-up pull up. So I ran across the street and opened the passenger-side door. A guy already in the passenger seat slid over on the bench seat so that I could get in. Mike introduced me to him and vice versa. Then Mike prompted the guy to show me something, so the guy lifted up his t-shirt to show me a shit-load of scars all over his abdomen. As he saw the look on my face, the guy told me that he'd been shot 9 times. He explained that he was shot in broad daylight, around 3:30 on a Sunday afternoon, on the street in front of a bar underneath the EL; he was shot for trying to prevent a fight between his friend and some guys whom he didn't know. From what he told me, he tried to put himself between his friend and one of the other guys, in an attempt to prevent the incipient fight, but the other guy interpreted that as him stepping up, and seemingly without any hesitation the other guy pulled out a .45 caliber and fired 9 times into his midsection. People went scrambling in all directions. And though there were police already there, they were somehow unable to catch the shooter. An ambulance came to the scene and one of the EMTs said to this guy, while slapping him across the face, "nigger, you gonna die." Miraculously though, they got him to Temple Hospital, where he was operated upon, and after a week of unconsciousness, woke up to discover that he'd survived.

Simply amazing. And even more so when considered in light of the fact that a few years ago this same guy was involved in a car accident on I-95, which resulted in him being ejected from his seat through the front windshield and thrown across the median into oncoming traffic from the opposite direction. He survived that too. I looked the guy in the face and asked him, "how many lives do you have?"

After Mike dropped off this cat with nine lives, we drove back to our original destination: Casa Brasil. Located at 6222 Bustleton Avenue (not far from the Boulevard), Casa Brasil is a solid, buffet-style, Brazilian restaurant. For those not familiar, Brazilian cuisine (not unlike that of its neighbor, Argentina) is renowned for its fine meats roasted on a spit or rotisserie, called "churrasco." A server will cut the meat as you prefer, anywhere between well-done and medium rare, and with more or less fat. This time I got some pork slices and sausage. On the side, I got yellow rice with black beans, green beans, and a bacon-wrapped drumstick. All of this, and stacked high on my plate, for less than $10. Talk about a solid, all-around healthy, and filling meal.

Post-dinner we stopped back at Mike's place to drop-off the truck, then we caught the 66 bus back down to the FTC to catch the EL into Center City. We went to Mission Grill, at 18th and Arch, for the birthday party of a girlfriend of a guy who Mike is friends with (Kevin Bacon has gotta be involved here somehow, right?). It was a good night; we got a chance to talk to some different people, as well as catch up with each other. And about Mission Grill, I've been there before, and must say that I really, really like the decor: mission-style, very Spanish-colonial California.

So that's about it. I was gonna write some more shit, but this is enough shock and awe for now. Besides, I've gotta go figure out what to do about dinner: I'm thinking eggs with ham, topped with mozzarella cheese, and with a whole wheat bagel on the side, topped with whipped cream cheese. Whaddaya say now, I got the skills to pay the bills!