Trappin Aint Dead

By Billiam

It was the day of my buddy Derrick’s bachelor party.

The only basic plan they had was essentially a cookout….that women weren’t invited to. That year, it would have been the second “bachelor party” that didn’t go to a strip club. Come. On.

As the evening went on, I slowly planted seeds in Derrick’s head that we NEED to hit a strip club. He says there’s one “right down the road”, so finally I convince everyone to go. Maybe 5-8 guys left at this point.

Apparently, the only vehicle we had that could hold everyone was a pickup truck, so some of us were in the bed. I figured since he said it was close, it wouldn’t be a big deal, but it ended up being a much longer drive than I thought, so I hopped in the back. Only issue with this was he had just attended some crab fest where he drove the crabs, so I ended up sitting in some crabby water and had a wet butt.

Fast forward to the club. It’s outside of Baltimore, on a road called Rt. 40, which is notorious for being a very sketchy road to be on, in some parts.

Anywho, the club is a dive, I got a lap dance, apparently the bachelor got up on the bar at some point and someone pantsed him, revealing no underwear. I missed that part.

After a very short time, the other guys, who were mostly his work friends, were ready to leave. Lame.

I looked at my other buddy, Gordon, who is Derrick’s cousin, and said “I’m not leaving, you with me?” So we stayed.

Fast forward, it’s getting late, and this one particular stripper, decided she wanted some money from me. So she focuses in on me, even revealing what’s beneath her thong(a no-no in some clubs. No bottomless!).

So, I request a lap dance and we begin to make our way to the lap dance area. She leads me in first, so that she is between me and the exit of that area, and then boom. The lights come on and the music turns off, it’s closing time.

At this point, I had not yet given her any money. So she starts trying to sweet talk me that if I give her 40 bucks, she’ll go get some E or weed or something else, and she’ll call me and we’ll party. We exchange numbers at some point, but the whole time I’m like, “nah I’m not giving you any money, why don’t you go get the stuff, call me, I’ll meet you and we can party?”

This upsets her. Quite a bit.

Now here I’ll tell you she was a black lady. So she turns into this ghetto b-word, “Why ya gotta talk down to me like that? Why ya gotta talk down to me like that?”

At this point, I’m just letting her go off on me because I didn’t speak to her correctly, and she goes to walk past me to exit the lap dance area.

That was when my slightly intoxicated mind decided it would be a good moment to place a hand on her rear, ever so slightly.

“Why ya gotta talk down to me like that? Oh! Now you touched me, now you gotta pay me!”

So I agree, and reach into my pocket and pull out a crisp one dollar bill and hand it to her.

This….really pisses her off.

“Oh you mother fucking cracka ass fucking fuck, my brother’s the bouncer over there…” She’s just going off on me as I’m briskly walking to the exit. She’s in my face the whole time saying stuff like that.

Somehow, I make it to the door without one of those bouncers noticing me and throwing me out. So…technically I wasn’t thrown out, but kinda was.

I get outside, my buddy Gordon was right outside waiting for me, and I just tell him to “walk, just walk and don’t look back.”

This was pre-Uber, so we had already decided we were walking back way before this point. Lots of people are in the parking lot, not a great place for 2 white boys from York to be at 2 a.m.

We make it sufficiently far away and I tell him what happened. Then I remember, I have this stripper’s number!

So, I start texting her.

Instantly, she’s mad. I pretend like nothing is wrong. Each text I receive ends with a signature: “trappin aint dead”.

“When can we meet up?”

“We gun come find you and beat your ass

trappin aint dead”

“lol, I had a fun time tonight.”

“My cousin’s a crooked cop and we tracking your phone’s gps and gunna come find you!

trappin aint dead”

I do this for pretty much the entire walk home. It actually wasn’t too far from his house, as it was a straight walk behind a creepy Lowes, through a dirty field, in flip flops. The drive was longer, because you had to follow the roads, but the walk home, I feared for my life, more than once.

All in all, a good night.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s