1/26/07, 5:53 pm EST

Assignment Three Finalist: Brian Wheeler on a street exchange

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Note: This is not an official Rolling Stone article. What follows is a submission to the “I’m From Rolling Stone” writing competition.

by Brian Wheeler
Age: 19

“Look at what you’re wearing, you look like a goddamn gay Elmo!”

Walking opposite the commotion, I what-the-fuck a 180 and find a half-drunk couple in the midst of a verbal brawl. “Oh, and I suppose your closet full of fuck-me pants make you a regular Versace!”

Ten feet away, the hotel doorman and I exchange check-out-this-crazy-bitch glances and settle in for some entertainment. Her heels churn out a beat against the wet pavement while she prepares to attack; He glances at the amassing crowd, maybe six of us now.

Insults get sharper as they notice the audience. Within a few minutes we know enough about this guy’s package to draw it from memory. And apparently She used to like blowing lines with her daddy. Wait…mommy too. The light changes and horns sound and will that blue Jetta please get his head out of his ass and move. Blue Jetta rolls up his window and leaves the show - slowly accelerating to make sure he doesn’t miss the best part. She gives blue Jetta the finger and returns to the fight.

With no end in sight He retreats inside to the half-full bar. She walks down Mass. Ave. mumbling, her breath trailing in little plumes, the beat fading out slowly. I’m happy I decided to go to the late showing of The Good Shepherd.

While I fumble for my iPod I think about what I just saw: improvisation, creativity, inappropriate comments, general lack of giving a shit. I put in my earphones and see one of my fellow audience members across the street, satisfied and smirking at the ground. As my click-wheel searches for The Who, maybe some Quadrophenia, I wonder if I’ll ever want to buy a new CD again.