It happened last night, around 10 pm, when a friend and I went to have dinner in the Kips Bay area of Manhattan. We passed a sketchy block with a bodega and some 'less than fortunate' minorities hanging around the entrance to an apartment building. I grew up in the city; I went to school in Brooklyn; I've been to Harlem; I can survive a block in Kips Bay. Read more [+/-]
As we passed the group, I overheard one of the boys say, "I think they're fags." Then one of the girls started to call out to us, "Hey fag. Hey!" We ignored her and kept walking, but she continued, getting louder and extending the 'g's, "Fagggggggot!"
At the time, I wanted to turn around and say, "Are you talking to me? When did they teach cocaine trafficking puta-bitch-slut-whores like you English? Why don't you go do another drug run, have one of them burst inside you so you can die a painful death. That way you'll do the world and your mom a favor. Carajo."*
Or go Jet Li on her ass.
Of course I didn't. No. That's exactly what she wanted; and I wasn't about to let her win. Plus, I was already at peace with the knowledge that what I wanted to say was foreshadowing her life anyway.
And Jet Li probably wouldn't have approved.
*This is the toned-down version for brevity. My original retort was longer and contained a lot more expletives.