Dear Max: I ain’t no punk!


So yesterday after we stopped by Eastern Market to pick up some peaches and nectarines and saw “The Taking of Pelham 123,” my friend Kojo and I went to Capital Q for lunch. If you’ve never been there, it’s pretty good barbecue. And well, then there’s the ambiance… The walls are papered with autographed 1-dollar bills that contain anything from the person’s name who left it there, to love notes, political slogans, etc.

When we ordered the guy behind the counter asked me if I wanted mild or hot sauce on my sandwich. I said ‘hot’ and he asked me if I was sure and then gave me one of those ‘you’re gonna regret it‘ looks. It wasn’t my first time there and the sauce is hot but it’s nothing a cup of water won’t fix. He kept giggling like I didn’t know what I was getting myself into but I assured him I wanted it hot. Then when I returned to the counter to ask for some more sauce for my sandwich (he was being stingy — or maybe he thought he was ‘protecting’ me), he proceeded to follow me back to my seat and watch me eat it. “I’m FINE!” I kept telling him. I was like “I don’t know what kind of punks you have coming in here, but this sauce is NOT that hot.” Kojo said he probably made the hot sauce that day and wanted to see how well he’d done.

Anyway I asked him his name, and then I asked him for a marker and some tape so that I could leave a dollar on the wall with a little message to him on it. His name was Max. And below is my contribution to the decor:



I told him where he could find the message and left. He was funny. I took a photo with it, just in case I’m ever in Chinatown and need a dollar. Imma go back for it. Please believe it. Tee hee and hee ;)