That One Time a Juggalo Hit On Me

If any of you are unfamiliar with the Juggalo species allow me to provide a brief intro:

They are fans of the Insane Clown Posse, or ICP; they drink Faygo by the gallon, love to chant 'FAMILY,' tend to be out of shape, they have a gang-like allegiance to their terrible taste in music; oh, and they paint their faces like a clown. Apparently, as with any organized religion, there are varying degrees of Juggalo commitment. Some insist on wearing the face paint all the time, and others only do it for special occasions.

So the guy started talking to me and he seemed fine enough. He complimented my nose ring and asked about some of my tattoos. I have some script on my collarbone that is difficult to read so, “I really like the tattoo on your chest, what does it say?” seems to be a go-to line. Especially for guys who don't really have any tattoos themselves, it seems. He was new to the area and asked for suggestions on places to get tattooed. Whatever.

I asked what brings him to Georgia, where he doesn't know anyone.

This is where shit starts getting real.

I find out that his parents kicked him out when he turned 18–which was only a year ago–because they didn't agree with the Juggalo lifestyle.

So this dude was forreal about this shit.

He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a (and I use this term loosely) tattoo that looked like it was done in a basement with a homemade gun. Blindfolded. It said 'I.C.P.'

Shocker.

At this point he is already sitting at my table, so I can't just walk away. I asked what he wants to do here and obviously he is a musician. Singer/songwriter, to be exact. I made the mistake of asking him what kind of music he plays.

This motherfucker starts serenading me, at full volume, in the middle of the patio at Starbucks. For anyone who hasn't had the (mis)fortune of this experience, it's weird.

Where are you supposed to look? Just stare at him, or look around at the groups of people he is annoying? At the very least he did have a fairly good voice.

Once he finally stopped long enough for me to interject I clapped exactly four times and acted like that wasn't one of the top ten most embarrassing moments of my life.

At this point it started to become clear that he wasn't going to leave on his own. Pre Juggalo reveal I had told him I wasn't doing anything that day and he was now started trying to suggest places we could go next. I decided I would just get a friend to call with a fake emergency and I could get away without having to be a total bitch to this guy. I decided on a flat tire and excused myself to get a refil inside so I could quickly send a couple SOS texts.

When I ordered my coffee the barista (who had a clear view of my table outside) asked about my new friend, “So, do you know that guy?”

“Oh god, no. I just met him, and he started singing to me and shit…trying to leave right now actually.”

“Ok, I was just curious. He was inside a couple of hours ago and sang to this random girl.”

That son of a bitch.

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2 comments

    • Chelsea

      Oh yeah, definitely a good thing. I almost blew off a guy who tried talking to me in the grocery store a week later because I was so scarred by the experience. He turned out to be free of horrible tattoos and had a place to live. Double score.

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