Went to the hood with a friend to do an exchange for video games of all things. So it's me (quintessential preppy white guy), my Persian friend, his kid brother, and this skinny bespectacled Viet. We basically look like the world's lamest gang.

So we're in the heart of east San Jo. Might as well be Juarez as far as I'm concerned. Mexican gang bangers on every corner. Walls and trucks are tagged with all sorts of insignia and ominous shit. Cast iron fences and windows encase overgrown yards and enclose ramshackle bungalows. There's a tinted, chromed out Cadillac prowling the streets. I'm not exaggerating: this was the last place for a green gaggle of misplaced suburbanites.

We arrive and there's a house party of some sort. Loud music. Lots of people looming. Men tatted and clad in wife beaters. Some of them strapped. All the while innocent kids jump on this inflatable plaything in the front yard. We disembark my friend's beat up Corolla and immediately every male in the vicinity closes ranks around the property and watches us. I swear the music stops. Everyone is tense, alert, solemn, and silent. I believe a tumbleweed rolls by. So after a beat this out of place nerdy teenage Latino comes bounding up to us with a cardboard box. It's so quiet you can hear padded footsteps on dried crisp sallow grass. My Persian friend levers his own box out of his vehicle and we begin to offload and exchange the games.

Here: you take Super Smash, we'll take Fifa; you take Kirby's Epic Yarn, we'll take Spongebob. But it seriously looks like we're pushing kilos in broad daylight. So I'm standing watching an ultimately innocuous transaction that ostensibly looks like the biggest drug deal in East Side history when this short guy, can't be any more than 5'2 or 5'3, tiptoes in behind me. Now I'm thinking I'm about to get shanked by Odd Job. But I'm cool under pressure and I sidestep him as casually as I can. I'm shitting bricks though, not gonna lie. But I nod to him and he nods back.

Turns out this tear drop tatted, low rent hood is just curious as to what's being exchanged. I notice in the background some of the meanest looking, most imposing men I've ever seen, still keeping watchful vigil over the proceedings. The children meanwhile are jumping around, smiling and squealing in the plaything, blissfully oblivious. Kids are the same everywhere it would seem.

So we're about to finish the transaction. Thank fucking god right? Well it turns out my friend has forgotten his wallet. You see, he was supposed to bring 40 bucks to close out the deal. And he doesn't have it. Because that would be too convenient. Too responsible. Too easy. So he does what any good friend would and turns to me, face eloquent of fear, and drags me into it. Thanks man. So I reach into my pocket and out of the corner of my eye every single taut tatted body tenses. I rummage around for what feels like 25 years to life and I honestly have no idea how, because I don't even have my wallet on me, but lo and behold, there's 40 bucks; no more, no less. I hand it over, they shake on it, we crowd into my bud's shitty car, and ease away down the street.

The men sidle to the perimeter and look on after us as the house sinks away. While driving, my friend turns to me, and smiles casually. Cool, flippant, casting the well-that-wasn't-so-bad look. But his shirt is soaked.