kgk
|
|
Skinheads
| 
Nov 3 03:32 UTC 1991 |
Skinheads in Santa Cruz
Todd got out of the car and made a bee-line to the
restroom. After a few moments he came out, shaking his
hands.
"They didn't have any towels," I asked?
"They never do," he responded.
I threw him a couple of paper napkins. As I handed him
a taco, I watched a group of skinhead punks gathering at a
picnic table in the back of the Taco Bell. "Skinheads," I
pointed out.
Todd was rummaging through the junk in the back seat.
"My Glasses!" He exclaimed with alarm. "I think I left them
on the sink in the john."
"Those skinheads just went in there," I said, pointing
toward the restroom.
"They're probably smoking dope in there," Todd
conjectured.
"Go knock on the door," I suggested.
He drew his face up into a slight grimace, "Well, O.K."
He got out of the car and walked up to the the restroom. He
knocked on the door -- No response. He knocked again.
Then, he yelled, "Hey, is there a pair of glasses in there?"
I heard muffled laughter. "Glasses -- no man. We
don't see no glasses in here." More laughter.
After about fifteen minutes, the skinheads came out of
the bathroom and rolled away on their skateboards. Todd
searched the bathroom in vain.
Later that afternoon, we were sitting in a park near
the center of town. "Hey, Todd, there's those punks. Look,
one of them is wearing your glasses." We were up in a flash
running down the street after them. I told Todd to stay
behind about twenty yards.
I approached the group and singled out the thief.
"Hey you," I said. "I want to talk to you alone."
He looked at me, and shrugged his shoulders. He didn't
recognize me. "O.K.," he replied.
We moved off away from the rest of the group and sat
down on a bench. "You see that sign over there," I said,
pointing off in the distance.
"Huh," he replied straining his eyes.
"Over there," I said again.
He stared again and then took off the glasses. "Oh,
yah, what about it?"
Meanwhile, Todd who was off in the bushes yelled. "Hey
you two Fags!"
The punk got up suddenly and turned around, leaving the
glasses on the bench. I picked them up. He started running
after Todd. The other punks followed. I ran after the
punks. Todd ducked into an alley. The skinheads followed.
"Oh shit," I mumbled under my breath, just as I heard a
police siren behind me. A few seconds later, I felt two
sets of hands grabbing my shoulders.
"O.K. buddy, what's the hurry?" a voice from behind
said. I turned around and faced two stern looking cops.
"My brother is in that alley getting the crap beat out
of him!" I replied in alarm.
"We'll see about this," one of the cops exclaimed.
They escorted me to the alley. We looked down the alley.
The skinheads were there, but Todd was no where to be seen.
"Looks like he got away," one of the cops said.
After taking down our names, the cops let us go. The
punks disappeared down the alley. I turned down the other
direction.
As I was just about to the end of the alley, I heard a
whistle from over head. "Hey dude!" a voice said. It
sounded like Todd's voice. I looked up. Todd came
scrambling down a fire escape. A worried Mexican woman
poked her head out of a door above. "Gracias," Todd said to
her as he jumped off the end of the fire escape ladder.
"Hey dude," I said, as I handed him his glasses.
____________________________________________________________
This is based on a true story about a vacation in California
my brother and I took several years ago.
|