"Ummm... us?" I warily reply.
Hmm... maybe that's not a good sign. We come to this realization as we're passing the Apollo Theater, which by the way, from the outside looks very plain and unassuming... unlike the ghetto glitz that you see on TV. Amateur Night is tomorrow, and dammit, we're a day early. Oh well. I guess we'll live... or not. It's with a sense of trepid caution that we venture up to this part of town, even as I'm skipping to the "it's showtime... at the Apollo!" tune that's buzzing in my head. Maybe I should stop. Or at least put away the camera.
Needless to say, the wifey and I kinda stand out a tiny bit, and it's not because of our strikingly good looks. I can honestly say I haven't seen a single Asian person since we got on the A-train in Midtown. Cuz you know, Asians are like locusts... we're everywhere. Except here. Which raises concerns cuz there's not a single blip on my chink-dar. But seriously though, how bad can it be? There's an Old Navy down the block and Bill Clinton's office is somewhere on this street. There's even a busload of white people here, albeit they're in the safety of an open-air tour bus and snapping pictures like they're on some kinda wild animal safari. Which begs me to ask, "Why aren't we on that bus?" Which then leads me to wonder, "Are we like those poor antelopes you see on Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom that always get run down and eaten by the lions?" Hmm. 
Perhaps it's just a false sense of insecurity that's making us feel this way. The area reminds me much of the Mission District in SF... a little unwelcoming to the newbie, but definitely filled with character. The streets are lined with neat African stores, unique restaurants, and neighborhood barbershops, all with pictures of Barack Obama out front. To put it in layman's terms, it's like a Chinatown for Black people. I don't know how else to explain it, but I guess if I put it that way, it's somehow not as scary... or is it? Anyway, it's not like I'm gonna go up to someone and say, "Hey homie, help a yellow brutha out and take a picture of me and my woman on Malcolm X Street, will ya?" Right? C'mon, it ain't all that bad here. 
So anyhoo, what brings us down to this part of town? What makes us risk life and limb, you might wonder? Chicken and waffles. Home style southern cuisine. Soul food. Amy Ruth's on West 116th Street is famous for it, and although it's not as hole-in-the-wally as some of the hole-in-the-wall places we just walked by, it's about as hole-in-the-wally as we're willing to get here. The last time we risked our lives for soul food was for Roscoe's in LA, where we were deterred by the sounds of gunfire. No rounds shot this time... only the sweet taste of smothered chicken, to-die-for waffles, cheesy grits and sweet potatoes. Yum. Someone please roll us home. Random Stuff:
As we're walking out of Amy Ruth's, we see a German tourist holding a tour book and map looking lost. If someone were to get mugged here, who would it be? Probably him. Funny how you feel less vulnerable when you see someone more vulnerable than you. Ha. Sucker.
Just a couple of blocks over and up the hill is the ritzy Morningside Heights area and Columbia University... seems like a world away from Harlem, though it's just down the block. 
We walk into the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, the 4th largest Christian church in the world spanning two football fields long with 12-story tall ceilings. Construction started in 1892 and it's still going on. It's actually pretty grand... very Euro-worthy. 
Riddle me this: who's buried in Grant's Tomb? Ulysses S. Grant. Wrong! Not only is the dude on the fitty dolla bill buried there, but so is his wife, Julia. It's a nice monument/mausoleum kinda out in the middle of nowhere. Nice nonetheless. - Dinner at Redeye Grill near Carnegie Hall with my cousins. Good conversation, good company, good times.
Malcolm X Street
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