Tuesday, April 13, 2010

The Magical Ghetto World of 13th Street

As many of you may know by now, I am a proud student of The School for Creative and Performing Arts in Cincinnati, Ohio. What many of you do NOT know however, is the source of SCPA's power. The place where all of us turn for breakfast, the sanctuary of the children who get off the bus hungry, the very food that gives us enough substainance to survive our grueling school day followed by neverending rehearsals...
And this magical place I speak of, would be Tucker's. :)
For the unfortunate souls who have never set foot in the wonderously teeny, child packed, grease filled hole in the wall known as Tucker's, it's a tiny restruant that specializes in greasy food and Kool Aid served in plastic cups.
They also happen to have the cheapest and greatest tasting pancakes in the universe.
Or at least the greatest above 13th street. However it's in an incredibly skep part of the neighborhood as SCPA kids would say. You go straight down 13th street, past the stores with barred windows, past the groups of hobos and their brown paper bags filled with 45s, to this little hole in the wall store filled with greasy skillets and clusters of sleepy-eyed kids fresh of the Metro. And Asu and I detirmined that we needed to go.
Each of us showed up 45 minutes before school and we're plopped groggily in a cafeteria booth with our friend Jon. "Can you text Skylar and tell him to go to Tucker's?" I asked. He inquired as to why the hell I would make him text Skylar to bring my lazy ass some food. When I told him I hadn't eaten breakfast, he decided I was and I quote "draggin' my healthy ass" down 13th street to get my own damn pancakes. I was a little wary at first. After all both my parents had made it three hundred and sixty-six percent clear that hell would be open as an ice skating rink before I would be allowed to walk down 13th. But my parents wouldn't have to know.
So I drug my healthy ass to Tucker's :)
Asu and I made hilarious conversation as we usually do as we sauntered past barred businesses and bums with paper bags of alcohol. As the sun rose over my city and we passed a Shepard Fairey mural (jizz) we made our way into a darkly lit one room restruant with a single long counter with stools to serve as seats. We plopped down and ordered a jumbo pancake (a house specialty with powdered sugar on top and cinnamon in the dough. Aww yeah. Just feel those arteries clog) we discussed starting a band until our friends Gaby and Skylar showed up. The situation as a whole made me happy.
Except for the FRESHMEN.
DUN DUN DUNNNNNN.
You see, at Tuckers, you watch your food being made. So Asu and I had front row seats as we watched a bearded guy in a short sleeved black button up pour batter onto the skillet to make our pancake. The way he sprinkled on cinnamon and flipped it slowly was almost sensual to us hungry teenagers. We watched that pancake from it's birth. We knew the pancake. We smelled the pancake. We had a physical connection to the pancake.
That was OUR damn pancake...
Or at least it was until the guy boxed it up, asked if anyone called in for a pancake and a little ho in the back raised her hand. Asu and I almost went crazy. Our friend Jon told Asu her name later on. In the words of Asu
"You just participated in a murder." xD

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