Po Po

There have been instances where friends, coworkers and acquaintances who know me well enough have accused me of being judgmental, opinionated and…picky. It’s true…and I’ll tell you why.

After years and years of being taken by friend and foe alike (now mind you, I’m not totally cynical and jaded yet) I’ve learned to put my radar on “high” when meeting someone new. You can never really know a person from by just looking at them. It can give a hint as to who they are, and that’s it. Most people aren’t going to volunteer that they’re alcoholics, cocaine addicts, gamblers, wife beaters and so on and so forth…will they?

So, my radar is “on” when I run across someone new. Also, my brain has a sort of smoke detector that rings like BLOODY HELL when it comes across someone that’s pure trouble. I had the perfect example last night at the wonderful Irish bar I attend for mass.

I was talking to J. when this unmanageable street whore stumbles into the bar with a black eye (no joke!) and slides up to the bar asking M, pointing at me, if I was a “po po.”

She then spins around, far too close to my personal space and asks if I was a po po.

“What’s a po po?” I ask.

“Oh, don’t give me that…you know damn well what I’m talking about” she says.

“No.I.don’t.” I respond back.

“Hey, you can’t bullshit a bullshitter sweetie, I know people and you‘re a po po” she goes on.

Ok, so I lose it. I don’t ordinarily blow my temper but I hate, just hate it when people insist that you understand something when you plainly don’t.

“NO, I DON”T KNOW WHAT A PO PO IS! YOU HAVE TO USE THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE WHEN YOU TALK TO ME!!” I yell back at her.

She’s startled a bit, leans back. Then she goes on to quote some kid’s rhyme but re written by her that included the word “fuck” in it about 21 times.

“Oh, Ok..fine…fine.” I say and break off eye contact and go back to talking to J.

She finally stumbles off, out the door when I turn to J and M and ask what a po po is.

“A po po is a cop, policeman…she thought you were a cop Ron” J. tells me.

“A po po is a cop? I really wondered about that. Sure, I don’t know every word every generation creates for it’s own slang but “po po,?” it sounds like a two year old talking.

Yeah, my radar and inner smoke detector went off like a nuclear bomb. All I saw was this threat, this wreckage of a person, covered in parasites, diphtheria and plague germs wanting to get it on me. No way EVER!

My judgmental attitude unfortunately gets reinforced by encounters like this…