#gauffdrops

[gauffdrops]

On the long road to wealth, you might have to pass up Instant Gratification St., Material Possession Ct., and Keeping Up with the Joneses Ave.

[gauffdrops]

Story Time: Cougar Prey

Once upon a time there was a young man, freshly graduated out of college who was trying to navigate what people referred to as quote, the Real World, unquote. While embarking on his quest to figure out what being a “man” is, a jolly lioness set her eyes on the man. This is his story:

Last summer I had my first ever big boy job (you know- office cubicle, slacks, badge and all that jazz) working for a company in Oakland. I had just graduated college, and had no idea what the next stop in my life was going to be, so I was just grateful to have a job. After all, rent and food ain’t (#CollegeEducated) free y’all. I wasn’t sure about an office job (speaking that my previous jobs all involved sports, basketball shorts, and minimum wage) but there was actually something very rewarding about getting up in the morning, getting dressed, heading to an office, doing my work at a computer, having meetings and projects, and then heading home. I felt like a grown up.

I didn’t have a car at the time, so I had to take a the Bay Area Rapid Transit (known as BART in the streets) everyday to work. For anyone who has never ridden BART, or public transit in a big city/populated area, it can get rather crowded (remember this for later). According to sources (which can not be divulged at the this time...for credibility purposes), there are 7 million people across the Bay Area. Many of those people root for the San Francisco Giants or Oakland Athletics (street name: Oakland A’s #SportsEducated) MLB Teams. Sometimes those teams have day games around noon or 1 in the afternoon, and you know how all of those people get to and from the games? Survey says...BART!!!!!

One day, I was coming back from work on BART and noticed a large amount of A’s fans waiting at one of the stops. The train was already packed but people on BART always seem to find a way to squeeze on. As people piled in, an older couple and a young girl wearing A’s gear ended up next to me. I didn’t pay much attention to them as most people keep to themselves while on BART, but they did seem awfully...cheery. Let it be known, that there are many types of people in the Bay Area and I’m not one to pass judgment on BART (after all, I had a “fun” night on BART after I graduated and...we’ll save that one for next time). The husband, who was a little red in the face, was especially talkative. After a few minutes of observing the trio, I collected the following data:

The couple was a pair of grandparents

The girl was their granddaughter, who had just attended her first professional game

The girl had gotten a foul ball at the game (something I was a little salty about, at first, speaking that I had been to plenty of professional baseball games and never really gotten close to one- until the grandpa was telling everyone near them about said ball and was pushing the granddaughter to show off the ball)

The grandparents had been drinking and Gramps was a little tipsy (which explained the redness)

At first I just thought the grandpa was just a talkative, outgoing person who was really proud of his granddaughter for getting the ball. This may have been true, but by the way he was “playfully” teasing his wife, I gathered that he was no stranger to day drinking. I had my earphones in so I figured he wouldn’t bother me. Turned out that the grandpa wasn’t going to be the problem. Enter Grams.

After everyone had crowded into the train, I was left standing in the aisle holding the bar above me with both hands. I’m 6′4″, so I take up a good amount of space, but I try to make to make sure people around me have their space as well. The last thing I wanted to do was fall over from a train jolt and knock into the people I was already squeezed next to. The grandma ended up standing right next to me, with me facing toward the back of the train car and her facing the side of the car (think of us forming a human “T”). She kept turning to talk to her husband and granddaughter so she probably didn’t even realize I was there at first. She was less intoxicated than her husband but had a little problem keeping her legs under her. As the train started to jolt after we took off from their stop, she bumped into me. She turned around and apologized, but not just with her words. As she said “sorry” while half-laughing, she put one hand on my chest and the other one on my side. It was very friendly touch but remember... I didn’t know this woman like that. I didn’t think anything of it and told her it was okay. She turned back to her husband and they continued their playful banter. Little did I know, Grams wasn’t done playing with me.

About 20 seconds later, the train jolted another time and she bumped into me again, this time grabbing me to brace herself. As she stumbled, she grabbed me and jokingly said to her husband, “If you keep teasing me like that, I might just go home with this handsome young man over here.” Again, I laughed because she was a little drunk and I knew it was a joke, but it was starting to get a little uncomfortable. Her husband looked at me and said, “You better not try to make a move on my wife,” and the woman laughed. I didn’t know what to do because the grandpa was drunk and not laughing at the time, so I was worried I was about to get in a fight over his wife hugging me. I’ve never been in a fight before, but if movies are anything like real life, the OGs always end up beating the young kid’s behinds behinds because they think they know everything and can over power them (#StreetEducated). As this guy continued to stare at me, I was thinking that I’m about to get WorldStarred (yup, I just used that as a verb- can I trademark that?) by some old, drunk grandpa in front of a bunch of people on the train for a woman I wasn’t even trying to talk to. And I was wearing my good work clothes. You never want to mess up your good clothes. 

I was starting to get nervous.

But then, as if 8 pound, 6 ounce newborn infant Jesus was watching over me, a sound entered the train car. Gramps started laughing. HE WAS JOKING. THANK YOU BASEDGOD. I think this might be the only time where I was happy alcohol was involved. A sober husband might not have been as friendly (read oblivious) in this situation.The grandma asked it I was okay with her hanging on to me like that, and I just shrugged it off. Now that I knew I wasn’t going to get stomped out, I didn’t see any harm in it. She kept one arm firmly around my waist with her hand just above my intergluteal cleft (#WikipediaEducated) and turned to continue talking with people on the BART.

As the train continued on, the couple kept doing the same thing: he would tease her, she would hug me, look up at me and joke to her husband that she was going to go home with this handsome/good-looking/strong (not trying to hype myself up, she actually used these adjectives) young man, and then he would say “You better not!” It was some weird game that I had become part of just by being tall and in the wrong spot at the wrong time (or depending on how you look at it, the right time spot at the right time- if older woman are your “thing”).

Although she was hanging on to me, she kept talking to her husband and granddaughter. I just listened to my music and let her do her thing. But I started to notice something: her hands were starting to slip down my back. At first I thought it was an accident, but she never raised them back up. Each time the train jolted and she grabbed onto me, her arms got lower and lower. Eventually, it got to the point where her hands were on the mid/upper region of my gluteus maximus (government name for “butt”). And of course she didn’t just place them there nicely. She was slowly moving them up and down.

GRAMPS WAS RUBBING ON MY BOOTY. IN FRONT OF HER DRUNK HUSBAND. 

*Cue R. Kelly*

I can’t say I’ve been hit on very many times in my life, but I was pretty sure that this woman was copping a feel on this BART. But of no course, no one could tell because it was too crowded. When I looked down to her, she simply smiled back as if nothing was wrong. That awkwardness that arose from the first time she hugged me resurfaced and I starting hearing WorldStar chants in the back of my head. She was doing this while still talking to her husband and her granddaughter. Y’all women are bold.

What was normally a quick ride home had turned into the longest train ride ever- I needed to get off the train A$AP Rocky. The grandma then asked me, “What stop are you getting off at, hun?” When I told her, she responded disappointedly, “Well darn, that’s one stop before ours. Are you sure you can’t stay on a little longer?”

(Disclaimer: I don’t remember if that was exactly what she said, but it was something very similar. By that point I was so nervous that it was in one ear and out the other. She could have asked me to come over and rub her bunions for all I know.)

Shortly after, the train got to my stop. I told her I had to go, and she gave me one one final hug. I wished her a good day and left. I didn’t even look at the husband. I got my butt off that train and walked straight home. When I got home, I reflected on what had transpired and just laughed. I may have missed out on my WorldStar moment, but I’ll get there one day. I did get hit on by a decent-looking (don’t judge) grandmother, in front of her drunk husband, and lived to tell about it.

After all, there’s been worse BART rides.

[gauffdrops]

About the author.

My name is Caleb and no, I don't have a nickname.

Fun fact #1 about me: I was actually born Austin.

Basic things I enjoy: Basketball. Music. Eating. Cheesecake. YouTube videos. Video games.

I'm taller than your average person, I really like shoes, and I really, really like tater tots. And when I say that "I like tater tots", it actually means "I'm completely infatuated with those golden, crispy nuggets of potato goodness." Reasons why I like tater tots:

They're bite sized.

They're great with ketchup or ranch.

They make every meal better.

The word "tater" doesn't appear in most dictionaries, thus making it a food rebel.

You can make this with them. (You're welcome).

I started this blog as part of a school project but plan to continue it until it's the most popular blog in the world and makes me stacks of money...or until I get tired of it. Whichever comes first. I plan to give you insight into the mind of a college graduate trying to figure out life. 

Fun fact #2: I haven't paid for a haircut in 5 years.

I have an odd loyalty to Nike and all their products. If they made underwear, I'd probably rock those.

Finally: I once beat LeBron James in a game of one-on-one. Unfortunately, Nike confiscated the tape so there's no real proof.

Enjoy.

P.S. Nike never confiscated the tape. Nike wasn't even at the game.

(Fun fact #3: I enjoy sarcasm.)

Gauff Drops out.

[gauffdrops]

The Beginning.

"The first step to making a successful blog is letting everyone know that you're planning on starting a blog. That way you know who to de-friend when no one reads your posts."- Socrates.

Just kidding.

He never said that.

Everyone followed Socrates' blog.

And he doesn't have any friends on Facebook.

Just like that, it begins.

Gauff Drops.