I've said it time and time again, South Provo after dark is no place to be if you aren't real.
Something crazy was in the air Thursday night as I headed down to the Seven Peaks Ice Arena with my girl to see my brother-in-law and my cousin play some hockey.
When we pulled into that parking lot, I knew somethin' was goin' down, but I wasn't sure what.
In the 801, if you know somethin' is going down, you come prepared and Thursday night I was prepared.
The hockey team I was watchin' was playing the thugs out of Springville. If you know what I know, then you know Springville produces some serious thugs. These homeboys don't give a rip about nothin'.
My cousin was weavin' in and out of their sorry excuse for a defense all night long. He was layin' out big hits on the ice and leavin' fools calling for their mamas. My Brother-in-Law was workin' the Springville thugs with some serious puck movement and things started gettin' crazy as time ran down and the game ended in a tie.
I stood up in the bleacher cause I knew what was about to happen. My cousin is going through the line to shake hands with the other team and he drops a line or two about them clowns skills.
The Springville thugs start pushin' with my cousin. I'm about to climb up over that plastic wall the separates me from the ice and work some clown, just like any homey out of the 801 would do.
Some bonehead referee is grabbin' up on my cousin and pushin' him towards the locker. I'm thinkin' in my head. This is it man, this is the true 801. This is South Provo after dark. This is real.
I am waiting outside my cousin and brother-in-laws locker room when some Springville thugs walk right by me. Now, it's a good thing that there were two singles wards having an activity that night and they were all off the ice waiting for the Zamboni, cause that kept me from getting through the crowd to work these clowns from S-Town.
Things seemed to have calmed down a bit and everything seemed to be fine... to everyone else. But I have grown up in this area code, I know the 801 like I know the latest grillz available from Icedoutgear.com., so I knew things weren't as calm as everyone else figured them to be.
I saw my cousin head for the door, and I'll be honest with you, I let my guard down. I was distracted by some fool who dropped his IPod, and I was waiting to see who would step on it first, him or one of his friends.
In the 801, you should never let yourself be distracted, cause that is when the bad things happen, and on this rainy night at the Peaks Arena, bad happened and it happened fast.
I grab my girl and walk outside the arena, only to find my cousin, leaning over in the parking lot, bleeding from his nose and mouth and with one of his teeth knocked in. My 801 instincts kicked in and I couldn't help the adrenaline and the anger that fueled up inside me. My cousin fights through the pain to yell out the license plate number and the type of car. At this moment, I forget all about the rain and my own safety. I become like a predator to the prey. I go bustin' through that parking lot, running as fast as I can, I get to the end of the parking lot, just to see that car go past.
I'm standin' there in the rain thinking to myself... had I not let my guard down and watched that dudes IPod, I could have been out there when these Springville thugs were jumpin' my boy. This just shows that in the 801, you have to be ready for anything. You can't afford to be distracted.
Of course my family is all about callin' the Po-Po's, but I'm like, let me enforce the law, let me show these thugs what happens in the 801 when you cross a homey's boy. I only wish I could have had Remy Ma there when this went down.
The 801 is real, and on this night, I witnessed the reality first hand.
