I Finally Got To Meet Him...

Laugh Now, Cry Later – Ice Cube (2006)

Okay, try and put yourself in my shoes. It’s June 7, 2006. Just yesterday while devil worshippers paraded the streets celebrating “the day of the beast,” my favorite rapper/actor dropped his seventh album to date. I was tipped off with information on where I could meet him in person. Ice Cube was slated to appear for autograph signings at three record stores on the West Coast and one of those dates fit perfectly with my schedule. I couldn’t make it on the first day, which was 6/6/06—I was too busy sewing voodoo dolls. I opted for the seventh—this day would be perfect. It seemed like I’d waited 15 years for this day. Today was the day that I would finally get to meet the King of Rap music—Ice Cube. I have been a Cube fan since NWA. I mean, I had never seen a man wear a Jheri Curl quite so sexily. From head to toe, Cube embodied the definition of a true West Coast G. He has the attitude, the hustle, and the militant shit-talking vibe that sends even uppity women into a tizzy. I could go on and on about the things that make Cube larger than life to me, but I would just turn into a crazed fan that…hey I think that’s what I already am. Anyone who knows me knows that I am in love with O'Shea Jackson, and by any means necessary I was going to meet him.

Approaching the VIP Music store in Compton/Watts (hell I don’t exactly know which city it was but I know it was one or the other), I felt poverty all around me. Kids crowded around the record store hoping to catch a glimpse of the dude who’s always threatening to grow his Jheri curl back. The parking lot was small and packed. The infamous ghetto bird circled the sky seemingly anticipating drama in the ’hood. Panhandlers milled about with a sad story on the tip of every tongue. The mothers looked too young to have kids, and the grandmothers were just too old to use the language they were using. The whole scene made me admire Cube all the more for his willingness to try as hard as possible to remain down to earth.

As I approached the store the line seemed to grow longer and longer. There were hundreds of people who turned out to meet him. I asked the handsome security guard dressed as if he was with the Fruit of Islam how I could get in to meet the man of the evening. He politely told me that each person who would meet him had to purchase a CD. The CD would guarantee entrance and a chance to meet Cube. I stood there thinking that maybe the line was too long. I thought I might be able to put off meeting him a bit longer. Hell, I’d waited this long. But that’s when I noticed the fans that were exiting the store with signed posters in tow. They looked satisfied and whatever he was saying to them it was right on time. Another thing I noticed were the big white T’s fans were either sporting or toting. The shirts read “Ice Cube” on the front and “6/6/06” on the back. I had to have one.

So I reached for my digital camera to document the whole scene. That’s when I realized my battery was dead. I began to get more anxious and fearful that my time with Cube was becoming less of a reality. I quickly ran to the Rite Aid next door to purchase a disposable camera. There was no way in hell I was going to miss the chance to be in a picture with my favorite man. That’s when I realized that disposable cameras were too expensive but I had to have one so I bought it anyway. I ran back to the handsome security gentleman and asked how much a CD was.

“What?” I yelled. “Twenty dollars!” Yep, twenty dollars that I didn’t have, especially after buying the camera. Needless to say, I found a way. With CD in hand, I headed to the back of the line, waiting for the moment we would meet, face-to-face, Neka and Ice Cube.

The line was bananas. I was one of the last ten fans, but I stood patiently at the back of the line. As we approached the entrance of the store I was like a kid on Christmas morning. I didn’t want to peek and ruin the shock value of seeing him in person for the first time. The people in front of me seemed to block him perfectly so that I wouldn’t be able to see him until my turn. Just as I walked to the front of the line, I saw him–beautiful in all of his splendor. He stood to take a picture with the girl ahead of me and took his chair once again. By the time I approached him he looked exhausted. My eyes had to be the size of eggs because I couldn’t believe he was so short. Nonetheless, he was gorgeous. He barely glanced up at me and asked, “What’s your name?” I said, “Neka.” Smiling. He looked up and asked in a confirming tone, “Nek-o?” I repeated my name again, spelling it, this time as he jotted it down on my CD cover. This was when I realized it was my chance to sink or swim. I had to let him know I was a fan. I had to let him know that ten years ago on my entrance application to college I wrote that I wanted to co-write movies with him. I’d even bugged the crap out of tkposition John Hayes for an internship at Cube Vision that I never got. I had to tell him that I had literally been planning this moment for years. But all I could say, the only thing that came out was, “I love you.” That was it; that was all I could say. It must have struck a cord because he glanced up at me with that smile, oh that Ice Cube smile, and replied, “Thanks.” He quickly leaned in for a picture with me and the next fan was shoving their way up to him for their one minute of intimacy with the Legendary Don Mega.