So, I just returned from my first ever “family vacation”. Those of you who remember me from my Bootleg days, surely remember my wife, Mrs. Bootleg and our son, Jalen. We opted for three days in Seattle, then three days in Vancouver, BC. While marveling at the absolutely enormous Asian-Canadian population in Vancouver (seriously, for every ‘Jacques Rougeau’ there were 20 ‘Jacques Woo-geaus’), I found time to go shopping for Mrs. Bootleg’s birthday cake.
There was a little IGA market about three blocks from our hotel, so with iPod in ear, I walked on over. As I entered, I nearly ran right into an Escalade with legs. Think of a Black King Kong Bundy with even less of a neck.
In an attempt to fit in with the locals-of-less melanin, I instinctively wanted to leave, cross the street and clutch my purse wallet like a life preserver in the Pacific. Instead, I turn my head and see a wee Negro behind the Black Wall of Canada. Why, it’s rapper (chuckle)/actor (chuckle) Ice Cube!
“Cube!”, I exclaim.
“Ay, yo, what’s up, homie?”, he replied, from behind a shopping cart, with that weird deer-in-the-headlights look of a man who’d gone up and down the aisles for the last half hour in search of the one remaining item on his shopping list.
At this point, his eyes are drawn to those always-soggy pre-made croissant sandwiches that supermarkets sell just so they can say “And Deli” in their name.
My attempt at witty banter is almost immediately ceased, as Cube is actually between two huge men/moose and the dual security posse begin to converge on me like the thick sista who DJ Qualls climbs into during Road Trip.
“Aiight, I gotta finish this shopping thang, man.”, Cube says before disappearing behind the two planets orbiting him.
My list of random celebrity run-ins isn’t very long. And, Cube, by default, probably moves to the front of a line that includes unspectacular “superstars” like Scott Baio, Ricky Williams, Rick Steiner, Penny Marshall and Kellen Winslow, Jr. Still, in those 60 seconds, I noticed enough for the obligatory “observations”:
1.) O’Shea “Ice Cube” Jackson obviously got his nickname from the fact that he quite possibly could comfortably fit into your glass of ginger ale. He can’t be more than 5’9″. I’m 6’0″ and I towered over the guy. That blank look on his face might’ve been fear of me, instead of “why come I can’t find the chili cheese Fri-Tos?”
2.) Cube was wearing the exact ensemble that he sported for his recent Source magazine cover shoot. From the new, unbent bill of his Washington Nationals hat on down. And, yes, I’m not proud of the fact that I knew this before actually verifying it.
3.) I never actually figured out why Cube was in Vancouver. Best I can tell, he was either promoting his recently released (3 months ago?) Laugh Now, Cry Later album or filming Are We There Yet 2: Who Do I Look Like, Christopher Columbo?!
Ooh, and a quick aside”¦the single best thing about Canada (Stanley Park, notwithstanding) were the ketchup-flavored Lay’s Potato Chips. When did America get behind the snack curve to a country with foliage on their flag?
