Scanning their unfamiliar faces, Tone tried to decipher who might be law enforcement or who was a legitimate traveler. In New York City one could never be too sure who was who. Tone was street smart enough to know things were never what they appeared to be. The streets had trained him to be suspicious of everything.
Tone continued to wander around in search of his boarding gate. One minute he felt he was going in the right direction and the next minute he felt he wasn’t. He may have been lost, but his temporary confusion wasn’t enough to make him stop someone and ask for directions. Despite the fact that he was pressed for time, Tone was more inclined to find his own way, just like a typical New Yorker.
The fact that he was traveling light, carrying only a few meager possessions in a small duffle bag, some underwear, socks, and a few white T-shirts, he was inclined to believe that he could break out in a full sprint if need be. That didn’t mean that he wanted to. Tone didn’t want to draw attention to himself like that.
Besides the duffle bag, Tone clung tightly to the black knapsack slung over his shoulder. The contents of that bag meant more to him than anything in the world right now. It contained a few ounces of cocaine and a nine-millimeter handgun, his currency and insurance policy. These two things were Tone’s passport to a new life. Everything else that he forgot or left behind in his haste to flee New York City could be replaced.
He was starting over, far from home. However, he had a plan. In his mind all he had to do was execute the plan and everything else would fall in place. Tone knew he had the right amount of heart and craziness inside to make it happen. What he didn’t know was what he would be facing once he arrived at his destination. He knew he had to familiarize himself with this new city, the different culture and the street vernacular. Once he adapted to those things, Tone was sure he would be fine. The streets were pretty much the same wherever you went, he reasoned. Real always recognizes real, and Tone was a real one. He knew how to handle himself.
Sweat trickled down his face as Tone stopped and examined his boarding ticket then looked up and scanned his surroundings. Instantly he realized he was nowhere near the gate he was suppose to be at. Panic began to set in so he swallowed his pride and asked for directions.
“Excuse me, Mister, could you tell me which way is gate 59?” he asked politely.
“You going in the wrong direction young man, it’s back dataway. Down the escalator,” the terminal employee told him.
“Is it far?” Tone wondered. “I gotta 6:15 bus to catch.”
“Nah, it’s not too far,” the man said, staring at his watch. “But you better put a pep in ya step if you plan on making that bus.”
“Thanks,” Tone hollered as he reversed his direction.
“You’re welcome,” the man replied. “Have a safe trip.”
“Damn, this fuckin’ bus station was bigger than I thought,” Tone mused.
With his ticket in hand Tone broke out into a light jog. Every so often he glanced down at the bus ticket to make sure he was on track. At this point he was sure that his bus was probably already beginning to board. He wasn’t sure how long they would wait before leaving. He was cutting it close by arriving so late.
Timing was a fact that he couldn’t control. Everything was so spur of the moment. Yet Tone knew he couldn't afford to miss this bus. He couldn't afford to stay in New York City another minute. His freedom was at stake.
With the heat on, Tone was heading south until things died down. That was the plan, lay low. If he like it he’d stay, if not he’d leave. When the time was right, he would return back to New York, back to his beloved Edenwald housing project.
Luckily Tone had a girlfriend named Sonya who attended Morgan State University. Once word reached her about the incident involving him, she begged Tone to come stay with her in her off-campus apartment. She feared for his safety, probably more so than Tone did.
At first, Tone wasn’t sold on the idea of leaving New York, but once the police raided his mother’s apartment, kicking in her door looking for him, it didn’t take much convincing thereafter. There was a lot of speculation surrounding him. The streets were talking, there was a high possibility someone might be snitching on him. Knowing that, his hood wasn’t the place for him to be. He never thought he would be leaving New York, especially under these circumstances.
New York City was end all, be all to him. It was all that he had ever known and all that he ever wanted to know. To Tone there was no other world outside his city. New York was the capital of the world, to him. It saddened him, having to leave his place of birth. But he had no choice. It was either stay and go to jail, or leave and be free.
As he jogged toward his boarding gate, Tone glanced up at the large digital clock located just above a billboard. It read 6:12 pm. His bus was scheduled to depart at 6:15 pm. Quickly he broke out into a sprint, trying his best to remain discreet.
Slightly winded, Tone arrived at the Peter Pan bus company terminal 59 just in time to board the bus with the last remaining passengers.
“Ticket please,” the bus driver stated, standing just outside the bus entrance.
Tone handed over his bus ticket and the bus driver punched a hole into it with a small silver hole puncher before handing it back to him.
“Enjoy your trip, sir,” the bus driver commented.
“Thanks,” Tone replied.
To him, it was such a relief boarding the bus. It was more than
