🗣🎶|| July 22nd, 1990 ||🎶🗣
We stayed at Gilbert's about thirty minutes after we were done eating, then went back to his house for the rest of the afternoon. It seemed like the closer we got to having to leave for the battle, the more anxious he got. I knew he was trying to hide it, but it was pretty obvious because of the way his mood changed.
Finally, it was seven o'clock and time to leave. Even though the battle started at eight, Proof told Marshall to get to St. Andrews a little early, so we did.
Marshall was zoned out for the most part in the car. I think he was thinking and preparing some of his punchlines- although I thought he had done enough of that when we went back to his place. He would come up with an insult while we were watching TV and whisper it over an over to himself in order to remember it. It almost sounded like what you do while studying for an important test and look over that one question that you always forget, so you try to remember it by repeating in numerous times and saying it to yourself. At least that's what I did while I was in middle school- when I actually put effort into my education.
On the way to The Shelter, Marshall kept the volume on the radio low. There was a few brief seconds of small talk between us, but then I could sense that he just wanted to focus on the upcoming battle.
I wasn't expecting him to be so concentrated for a simple rap battle. Well, I thought it was 'simple'. He acted as if whatever happened was going to determine how the rest of his life would be impacted, so I felt like he was definitely over thinking things but I didn't mention it.
As he turned the car off, we both climbed out of the car silently and headed toward the brick building. Not very many people were there yet, just a few cars scattered throughout the large parking lot. I knew it would soon be full, because whenever I would walk or drive pass St. Andrews on Fridays, some cars were lined up against the curb because it got so packed.
I followed behind Marshall because I had no idea where things were, and we came upon a large black man that seemed to be security, or at least some one you don't want to mess with.
"I'm battling tonight," Marshall told the man.
"I need to see an ID first. Make sure you two are old enough," he explained.
Marshall reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, then showed the man his drivers license. With a simple nod, Marshall stuffed his wallet back.
"I didn't know we needed an ID," I told Marshall.
"I thought I told you?" he questioned, furrowing his eyebrows.
"You didn't," I said with a sigh.
"Uh," Marshall turned fully to the guy. "She don't have an ID, but she's 16."
"Sorry man," he shrugged. "I need an ID."
"Come on, bro, she's old enough. Just cut her some slack."
I knew Marshall's temper was already short because he'd been so flustered over the night, so he was getting frustrated quickly.
"Anyone could say they're 16. I need an ID," the man repeated.
"Dude, her birthday is in like two weeks! She's almost 17!" Marshall stressed. "Even if she was 15 it ain't like she's doing anything but watching the battles!"
