My dad smokes.
He's not like the obnoxious smokers on TV, lighting their cigarettes in front of the girls at the bar to look cool, flipping his hair (cause you know, guys who smoke tend to have long hair. Which, now that I think about it, is a major fire hazard. Hm), zippering up his leather jacket before putting his shades on and hopping on his motorcycle to drive away.
He's not that.
He's just a regular guy, I guess, who also happens to smoke.
And I think I've mentioned many times before that I JUST moved into New York City. So today at around 2:45, which is when there are a lot of kids everywhere getting out from school and walking home, some teenager confronted my dad while he was getting into his car.
"Excuse me, Sir?"
My dad turned around, thinking it was my brother (even though my brother doesn't even get home until like, 3 or 4 something. Nice, Dad). Instead, it's some black guy, a teenager.
"Can I borrow your lighter?"
He asks it innocently. But my dad's not stupid; he can piece information together. We're not racist or anything (our nationality is actually a target for a lot of racism, so don't go judging), but it's a rather simple equation that my dad made in his head.
Black guy + Lighter = BOOM!
My dad kind of laughed and smiled, trying to be friendly. He said no to the teenager's request.
The teenager was a bit surprised at my dad's answer, but he continued laughing and smiling like my dad was doing. "Why?"
"Well," my dad said. "You're underage. I can't give it to you."
The kid kind of laughed. "Oh, come on. I'm 17."
The laughter for both of them was slightly forced by now. "I'm not going to give it to you." Cue the fake laugh.
Silence from the boy.
And then it came.
"You mother [censor]ing [censor]. [censor] retard. A**hole. Don't know why people [censor] their [censor]. [censor] [censor] [censor] [censor]."
And that was me cleaning it up. What he really said lasted for a while, and was much much worse. He even continued cursing while walking away. Guess he didn't have enough.
When my dad told me his encounter with the black guy after school, I was steaming.
"Well, what did you say back?" I demanded.
I looked at him in disbelief. "You should've said, 'I'm going to call the police on you, so you better shut your mouth.' You're the adult here."
My dad gave me a look. "He knows where our car is."
I was still mad about it though. But I guess there really is no way of getting back at them without going to jail or dying or whatever. The reality is that I can't beat them up, but they most certainly can beat me up.
And you may not be living in the city, but remember that ANYTHING can happen to your ol' man while you're at school. Beware...