So there we were, four young black males, shivering beside the interstate in northern Virginia as the po-lice illegally searched our car. The high of hanging with the hip-hop elite at the rap conference had fallen off fast as we watched two troopers turn a Thunderbird inside out. When one of them held up a pistol he found beneath the driver's seat, I thought our long night was just beginning.
"It's a b.b. gun," the driver said.
The officer considered the weapon with his flashlight and offered, "If someone pointed this at me, I'd shoot 'im."
After a moment of silence, the search ended and they let us off with a couple of smart remarks. As we carefully rode along at 55 mph, the mood in the car shifted. The warm vibes were replaced by cold reality as race and civil rights drove our in-car discussion. We debated whether the search should have been "allowed" and the reasoning for carrying an air pistol in your vehicle. Moments before the stop, we were thinking about our future in the music and television business, now we were content with getting home.
My association with this show ended a few week after this shoot. They continued to produce "Soundwave," their program, as I jump-started Wavelength. We wouldn't be friends again, but we'll always have the connection of shared experience.