I Was Carjacked On The Way To Club 112

 

It was just after Dominica’s 21st birthday and going to be her first over 21 clubbing experience in Atlanta. It was towards the end of the Semester, during exam period, but we didn’t give a fukkk we were ready to partaaay! We were going out with Chris; our Morehouse friend (well back then we didn’t know him that well as we had only met him a few weeks previously, but he was a fun loving guy and we were going out with him for about the third time in two weeks.) The club of choice was 112 on Cheshire Bridge Road. (Man I loved that place so much I still remember the name of the road) Dominica was hyped to be going, as it would have been her first time there. I had been a few times previously as I had managed to hook up a fake International Student Card and had luckily turned 21 a few weeks after they had refused to take it any more. (Off Topic: I cannot believe they would photocopy every ID on entrance. I’d never been to any place that had done that before. Is all that really necessary?)

Champagne on Ice 300x224 I Was Carjacked On The Way To Club 112

Chris had come to campus to come and get us to get us with Champagne and wine in an ice bucket in the boot, ready to drink in the parking lot when we got there, added to that a McDonalds super size cup filled to the brim with Bacardi151 and coke. We were set to go and the mood was good. On the way we stopped at a convenience store on Northside Drive to pick up a pack of Newport Lights. I got out from the front passenger seat and made my way to the door of the store. The door was locked, so I had to go to the plastic window to make my order. So I got the Newports… paid… and got my change. As I started to spin my body around to return to the car, I was stopped in my tracks by the words CAR and JACK. The exact phrase was, “I’m finna jack this car.”

As Chris’ car was the only one in front of the store. It was his car I assumed that was being talked about. In the reflection of the shop window I caught sight of a trampy figure getting into front passenger side, where I had just been sitting. From what I could see the guy looked scruffy, like a bum. His voice sounded scruffy too. Now you may wonder what a “scruffy voice” is but believe me it exists… just imagine the trampiest person ever and how their voice would sound, just like this man’s I bet. It was gravelly and rough. I don’t know why tramps sound like that maybe it’s the plaque grating across the top lip, or a dry throat due to excessive alcohol consumption?

So now I am thinking, “UH OHHHHH!” but remaining relatively calm. Then I heard the word “gun” and panicked. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself so I tried to signal to the Asian couple that I just bought the cigs from that I needed help. I was using my fingers to make them aware that I needed the phone and mouthing police at them. They did not seem to get the point and would not open the door. I pointed behind me whilst still mouthing at them frantically, “I need to call the police, we are being car jacked.” The wenches finally picked up on what I was saying, although I had a feeling that they realized earlier but just didn’t give a fukkk, as was obvious from what happened next.

Can you believe those Sons of Bitches would still not open the door and proceeded to pass me the phone underneath the plastic window and placed it in the metal tray where they had previously placed the cigs and money. I was pissed off to the highest degree, but it wasn’t the time or the place to kick off so I concentrated on using the phone with my back to the car without catching the carjacker’s attention. I dialed 911 and told them what had happened, giving as many details as I could, quickly and using the lightest voice I could manage. As I hung up Dominica came behind me, “Lets Go!” she said. I was still somewhat panicked and said to her, “What do you mean lets go… With the carjacker?” She continued talking, “Its been taken care of… lets go.” Her voice and eyes were pleading with me…She started to repeat herself, when all we saw and heard were loud, flashing sirens pulling in to where we were.

“Get out the car and put your hands on your head!” They had bloody loudspeakers… It was reminiscent of a film scene. We were still outside the store. By now I was in a complete daze and Dominica was looking at me in shock horror not knowing what the hell was going on. Chris and the carjacker had come out of the car with their hands on their heads. I rushed over to tell the police that Chris was with us and not the carjacker… but they were not interested at all. They told us to stand back and began to frisk the two men and search the car. I hadn’t thought about all the alcohol until I could smell the strong stench of 151 in the air. They had thrown the McDonald cup onto the floor and the intoxicating odour began to fill the immediate area… Then they removed the drinks from the boot… Uh OH! I knew that alcohol in the car was illegal. I began to have visions of being deported… failing my whole degree and joining the jacker for a life on the streets, jacking cars outside liquor stores…

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Ten minutes later and the carjacker and Chris were bundled into the back of a Police Van. It turned out that when I heard the word “gun” it was because Chris was in possession of a gun and the jacker must have exclaimed, “Oh you gotta gun, I don’t want no trouble!” When the jacker had got into the car Chris had revealed his gun and told him that he weren’t “finna jack shit.” The jacker stayed in the car trying to catch jokes about not leaving your door unlocked as it was dangerous. It turns out he was just an old drunk and was unarmed so when Dominica came to tell me that “everything was taken care of,” this is what she was referring to. Meanwhile I was calling the police thinking we were going to get kidnapped and shot up.

They ended up taking Chris away because they said the gun was concealed. It had dropped into his lap when he put his hands up. To make matters worse Dominica whispered to me that Chris was also carrying a stack of Marijuana on him. Our night was going downhill fast and in essence it was my entire fault. I called the police and they ended up taking my friend away! I was pissed. Meanwhile a few dodgy looking guys had been coming back and forth to the scene and I was convinced that they were the jacker’s friends out to seek revenge for us getting their friend locked up and botching the carjack attempt. The police took Chris’ car away and so there we were on Northside Drive (not the kind of place you want to hang out at, in the middle of the night) in the pitch black with no way home… After serving us with Subpoenas to turn up to court (during an end of term exam) they didn’t seem concerned with what happened to us. They were ready to leave us there in the dark on Northside Drive, so we made a plea with one of the officers to take us back to campus, which he did. We arrived back on campus, in the back of a police car… caged up behind the metal wires like untamed beasts. I wasn’t impressed.

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A few days later in the morning we had to go and be excused from our exams and turn up to court in Garnett. As we looked on the board in the courthouse to see what room we were supposed to be in we saw Chris coming down some stairs. He told us that we could leave as the case against the jacker had been dismissed, as he didn’t want to take it further because he was a harmless old man. He said they made jokes in the back of the police van and that the jacker had relieved him of his weed stash which made him an alright guy in his book. The carjacker was now free and Chris still had the added stress of having to fight a case of being in possession of a concealed weapon… We left the courthouse, 3 solemn faces and walked all the way back to the West End.

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