Crash

It's the sense of touch.

What?

Any real city, you walk, you know?

You brush past people. People bump into you.

In LA, nobody touches you.

We're always behind this metal and glass.

I think we miss that touch so much

that we crash into each other just so we can feel something.

You guys okay?

I think he hit his head.

You don't think that's true?

Stay in your car.

Graham, I think we got rear-ended.

I think we spun around twice.

And somewhere in there, one of us lost our frame of reference.

And I'm gonna go look for it.

-Calm down, ma'am. -I am calm!

I need to see your registration and insurance.

Why? It's not my fault! It's her fault!

-She do this! -My fault?

Ma'am, you really need to wait in your vehicle.

-My fault? -Stop in middle of street!

Mexicans no know how to drive.

- She blake too fast. - I "blake" too fast? I "blake" too fast.

-I'm sorry you no see my "blake" light. -Ma'am.

See, I stop when I see a long line of cars stopped in front of me.

Maybe you see over steering wheel, you "blake" too!

-Ma'am! -Crazy Mexican.

I call immigration on you. Look what you do my car.

Officer, can you please write down in your report

how shocked I am to be hit by an Asian driver.

- Ma'am! - Ma'am, no. See, it's Detective...

All right. You've got to calm down.

-Hey, Detective. Nice entrance. -Fuck you.

-Hey, you okay? -I'm freezing.

Shit. I heard it might snow.

-Get out of here. -That's what I heard.

-You got a smoke? -No. I quit.

Yeah, me, too.

-What do you got? -Dead kid.

Hey, Bob.

You get one free box of ammunition. What kind do you want?

Yo, Osama!

Plan a jihad on your own time. What do you want?

-Are you making insult at me? -Am I making insult "at" you?

Is that the closest you can come to English?

Yes, I speak English! I am American citizen.

-Oh, God, here we go. -I have right like you.

-I have right to buy gun. -Not in my store, you don't.

-Andy, get him out of here now! -Dad, go wait in the car.

Now. Get out!

You're an ignorant man!

Oh, yeah, I'm ignorant? You're liberating my country

and I'm flying 747s into your mud huts and incinerating your friends?

-Get the fuck out of my store! -No, you get the fuck!

-Now, come on. -Get out!

No, don't touch me! He cheat me this man!

-Andy, now! -Come on, let's go.

Okay.

You can give me the gun or give me back the money.

And I am really hoping for the money.

-What kind of ammunition do you want? -Whatever fits.

Oh, we got a lot of kinds.

We got long colts, short colts, ball heads,

flat nose, hollow points, wide cutters,

and a dozen more that'll fit any size hole.

Just depends upon how much bang you can handle.

I'll take the ones in the red box.

-You know what those are? -Can I have them?

Did you see any white people in there

waiting an hour and 32 minutes for a plate of spaghetti, huh?

And how many cups of coffee did we get?

You don't drink coffee, and I didn't want any.

Man, that woman in there poured cup after cup

to every single white person around us,

but did she even ask you if you wanted any?

We didn't get any coffee that you didn't want and I didn't order,

and that's evidence of racial discrimination?

Did you notice that our waitress was black?

And black women don't think in stereotypes?

You tell me something, man.

When was the last time you met one who didn't think she knew everything

about your little, lazy ass before you even opened your mouth, huh?

That waitress sized us up in two seconds.

We're black, and black people don't tip. So she wasn't gonna waste her time.

Now, somebody like that, nothing you can do to change their mind.

Yeah, well, how much did you leave?

You expect me to pay for that kind of service?

What?

What the fuck is you laughing at, man?

I'm seriously starting to think that you're jealous of Karen.

Hardly. I'd just like to see you get through a meal

without calling her or anyone else for that matter.

Okay, look, no more phone calls tonight.

As a matter of fact, here, you can hold the battery.

Okay?

$10 says she calls you in the car.

Wait, wait, wait. You see what that woman just did?

-You see that? -Why, she's cold.

She got colder as soon as she saw us, dawg.

-Oh, man, come on, don't start. -Man, look around you, man.

You couldn't find a whiter, safer or better-lit part of this city right now.

But yet this white woman sees two black guys

who look like UCLA students strolling down the sidewalk,

and her reaction is blind fear?

I mean, look at us, dawg. Are we dressed like gangbangers?

Huh? No. Do we look threatening? No.

Fact. If anybody should be scared around here, it's us.

We're the only two black faces surrounded by a sea of over-caffeinated white people

patrolled by the trigger-happy LAPD.

So you tell me. Why aren't we scared?

'Cause we got guns?

You could be right.

-Get the fuck out of the car! -Give me the keys!

-Come on. Hurry up! -Okay, okay, okay, okay.

Get down!

-No, no! Please! -Don't look at me!

Motherfuck, I said don't look at me. Turn around!

Move. Let's go, come on. We're good. We're fine. Just keep moving.

No, no, no! Take that voodoo-ass thing off of there right now.

I know you just didn't call Saint Christopher voodoo.

Man's the patron saint of travelers, dawg.

You had a conversation with God, huh? What did God say?

"Go forth, my son,

"and leave big slobbery suction rings on every dashboard you find?"

Why the hell do you do that?

Look at the way your crazy ass drive, then ask me again.

Chevy pickup and Mercedes driving north on Balboa.

Pickup cuts in front. Driver of the Mercedes gets pissed, pulls a gun.

Doesn't realize the guy in the pickup is a cop coming off shift.

Wait a minute, this Barry Gibb dude is a cop?

Yeah. Name's Conklin. He's a narc out of Wilshire.

I got the Mercedes.

Mercedes takes a shot at him. Detective Conklin returns fire. One shot.

Mercedes rolls to a stop. Driver opens the door, falls out dead.

He looks very relaxed for just having shot somebody.

He says he kept trying to drive away.

The Mercedes kept pulling up next to him, screaming, waving a gun.

Shot back in self-defense.

-Anybody actually see who shot first? -They just heard two bangs.

Find me a witness.

That is a nice gun.

Well, the car's registered to a Cindy Bradley.

And that's not Cindy.

That is a William Lewis.

Found it under the front seat. Hollywood Division.

Looks like Detective Conklin shot himself the wrong nigger.

-How much longer are you gonna be? -This is the last one.

Thank you.

You don't think reporters listen to police calls?

I need to talk to you for a second.

You just give me a minute, all right?

-And find Flanagan, will you? Now. -Yes, sir.

Yes, honey?

I want the locks changed again in the morning.

You want...

Look, why don't you just go lie down, huh? Have you checked on James?

Well, of course I've checked on James.

I've checked on him every five minutes since we've been home.

-Do not patronize me. -I'm...

I want the locks changed again in the morning.

It's okay. Just go to bed.

You know what, didn't I just ask you not to treat me like a child?

I'm sorry, Miss Jean.

Is okay I go home now?

It's fine. Thank you very much for staying, Maria.

You're welcome. No problem.

-Good night, Miss Jean. -Good night.

We'll see you tomorrow.

I would like the locks changed again in the morning.

And you know what? You might mention that we'd appreciate it

if next time they didn't send a gang member.

-A gang member? -Yes, yes.

-What, you mean that kid in there? -Yes.

The guy in there with the shaved head, the pants around his ass, the prison tattoo.

Those are not prison tattoos.

Oh, really? And he's not gonna go sell our key

to one of his gangbanger friends the moment he is out our door?

We've had a really tough night.

I think it'd be best if you just went upstairs right now...

And, what? Wait for them to break in?

I just had a gun pointed in my face.

You lower your voice!

And it was my fault because I knew it was gonna happen.

But if a white person sees two black men walking towards her,

and she turns and walks in the other direction, she's a racist, right?

Well, I got scared and I didn't say anything.

And ten seconds later I had a gun in my face!

Now, I am telling you.

Your amigo in there is gonna sell our key to one of his homies.

And this time it'd be really fucking great if you acted like you actually gave a shit!

All right, what have we got? Talk to me, Karen.

Flanagan doesn't think anybody has the story yet.

I'm the goddamn District Attorney of Los Angeles.

If my car gets jacked, it's gonna make news.

Fuck!

Why did these guys have to be black? I mean, why?

No matter how we spin this thing,

I'm either gonna lose the black vote or I'm gonna lose the law-and-order vote.

You know, I think you're worrying too much.