The Come Up

Starring: The Jordan 11 Space Jam

Can we talk for a sec?

Ok so... I'm driving around Garden City looking for a place to get a drink that isn't filled with frat boy idiots and I come across this one place with the last dude I ever expected to meet there. I don't remember his name but he was the owner of the bar and it was named after his daughter. Tough motherfucker. He had the most awesome jukebox filled with some really great jazz, there was a fuckin piano in there, and the whole bar had carpet. It was pretty amazing. There was like 8 people in there; 7 of whom were fairly young college kids and one of which was this middle aged woman at the bar who I said hello to when I first sat down. I walked over to the jukebox, saw some Coltrane records, and played Giant Steps. The bartender/owner came over to me, I ordered Jameson on the rocks, and he says "Did you play this song?" I look up at him and he's smoking the fuck outta this cigar. "Uh...yeah I did" I answered. He takes the cigar outta his mouth and says "It's just that...I don't expect any of these fuckin stupid kids to play anything like this."

We immediately became friends. He was a war veteran, the Korean War. He told me he had moved to Williamsburg in 1963 and from there all of these great stories ensued. Drugs, women, food, drugs, women. The dude was like 72 and told me he had beaten throat cancer and lung cancer...while he was smoking a cigar. After having talked about his own bad habits a little bit he asked me if I had any. I told him I really only spent money on sneakers and food. The older lady heard me and leaned over to say something. I noticed the cleavage. She wasn't hot but she was attractive, especially at 2am in Garden City after a few Jamesons. "Are you one of those sneaker people?" She asked. I wasn't sure if that was an meant to be an insult or not so I just kinda went with it. I thought she was drunk when I first walked in but she seemed to be pretty coherent. I just gave her a smile and i guess she took that as a yes because she came and sat on the stool next to me.

Her name was Cheryl and she proceeded to tell me her about her son-of-a-bitch ex husband and her divorce. He owned a sneaker store that went out of business. It ended after he met some other woman, she kept the house but he left his shit in the garage and basement. So I'm just sorta listening and trying to figure out her angle when she pops the question "Do you wanna come by and see if theres anything you like?" I guess the guy in me thought she wanted me to hit it, after all it was 2am. But I had a girlfriend and wasn't really interested in fucking around with this lady but, at the same time, I was sorta interested in what she had (if there really was anything). She told me she lived a few blocks away so I figured, "fuck it" and we bounced. When we got to her place she asked me if I was a psycho and I told her "Not anymore." She started laughing and rubbing my shoulder, telling me how funny I was. Her place was huge. Nice shit. Nice car. I was thinking about how awkward it was gonna be when I have to tell her I didn't wanna fuck, but the subject never came up.

She takes me downstairs and all of his shit was there, I guess whatever he had in stock went in the basement. I see the Jordan boxes and I get excited. She opens one of them and it's the muthafuckin' Jordan 11 Space Jams!!! I explained to her why they called them 'Space Jams' (because he wore them in the movie) and how they had to be made because he kept getting fined $5,000 a day for wearing the original white ones. She had like 6 boxes of them shits, but only one of them was in my size. She sold me them shits for 50 bucks. Like a dickhead I didn't even think about selling the others and I still regret to this day not buying all of them. It was indeed the prime example of the "Come-Up". I wanted to buy some more shit but I don't think she would have been cool with me going to a cash machine and coming back at 3 AM. I was definitely at the right place at the right time and was at peace with my decision to just take those. She asked me if I knew my way back and kicked me out. She was just interested in getting rid of his shit and I was totally cool with that.

The Jordan 11 is like a prize possession to me and I could have easily gotten $600 for them but instead I chose to rock them with pride. And rock them I did.

The End

Oh by the way... I've been seeing a lotta people on the street wearing Space Jams lately. Them shits are fake. You got "got". You wanna know how you can tell if your jordans are real?

I'm gonna give you some quick pointers:

1. If you paid less than $100 for any Jordan - Them shits are fake, smack dude immediately

2. if you open the box and they're wrapped in plastic - Smack dude immediately, Jordan ONLY uses paper.

3. Look at the Jumpman - If that stitching isn't totally rounded and there's no buttcrack, smack dude immediately

4. Check the serial number located inside the shoe - It should match the serial number on the box. If not...smack the shit outta dude immediately.

5. Jordan only really fucks with a few colors - Lately they've gotten a little risque with it, but I've seen dudes with like orange and black Jordans. boooo son..boo

You can always go to Solepedia.com to get the history of the shoe and what colors it comes in. Don't get caught out there B. The girls know them shits are fake.