Howard Homecoming, Brunch, and a Puddle of Vomit That Was Trying to Tell Her Something

There's a specific kind of person who cannot hear a warning even when it's shaped like actual vomit on the sidewalk. That's the pattern here — and this story is the proof. It's Howard Homecoming weekend in D.C., and our storyteller has been running the full circuit since Thursday with a crew that includes Malachi, the guy behind the wheel of her car all weekend. Sunday's plan is brunch, then a day party. Brunch goes fine. The day party is dead on arrival — the line wraps multiple blocks, and she and her friend take one look and bail, heading back toward the car. That's when the universe hands her the first sign: she steps directly into a pile of vomit in open-toed shoes. Repulsive, sure, but also the clearest possible signal to go home. She texts Malachi. He's shocked. She figures that means the night's over. It is not.

The Parking Spot That Started Everything

Malachi's fix for the missed day party is tacos and margaritas at a spot they'd already struck out at all weekend. Somehow they try again. He starts circling for parking, spots an open space, drives past it, then U-turns back for it. Meanwhile another car has already started reversing into that exact spot — slowly, legally, doing everything right. Malachi doesn't care. He pulls forward and takes it anyway, cutting the other driver off mid-reverse. Even one of his own friends in the backseat calls it out, basically asking if he's really doing this. Malachi's answer: yes, absolutely, no regrets. The other car just sits there, blocking traffic, refusing to move. Our storyteller — who's from New York and knows how these moments can turn — starts mentally preparing to get out of the car. She's already scared.

“if somebody says I got you they're not saying that to just pump up their chest and pump fake”

— the storyteller, on why she knew the threat was real

'I Got You' — Three Words That Should Have Ended the Night

After holding up traffic for what feels like forever, the other car finally reverses out. Then the window rolls down, they look straight at Malachi, say 'I got you,' and drive off. No yelling, no confrontation — just those three words, then gone. Our storyteller immediately asks Malachi what he thinks it means. His answer, more or less: nothing, relax, those guys are too old to do anything. She doesn't buy it. Every instinct in her body is telling her 'I got you' isn't a bluff — it's a promise. She stays anyway, trying to talk herself into trusting that Malachi knows what he's doing. Then a friend in the backseat notices the same car circling the block, passing her parked car again and again. Malachi's read: probably just looking for parking. She knows better. They are not looking for parking.

“the vandalism wasn't even directed towards me because I was not the one driving”

— the storyteller, on the cruel irony of the situation

The Damage They Came Back To

Inside the venue, she spends the whole event trying to get Malachi to leave. She's uncomfortable, distracted, convinced something is happening to her car right now. Malachi is unbothered and going nowhere. So she stays, miserable, watching the clock. When they finally walk out, the car is destroyed — keyed in every crevice, a tire slashed, the license plate messed with. And here's the detail that makes it sting worse: none of it was aimed at her. She didn't steal the spot. Malachi did. Her car just happened to be the one he was driving. She paid for someone else's decision to cut a stranger off — and then wave away every warning that followed.

“you always follow your intuition and you protect yourself and your property over any and everything else”

— the storyteller, summing up her hard-earned lesson

How it unfolded

  1. Homecoming WeekendThe storyteller and her group spend the weekend going to events around D.C. with Malachi driving her car the entire time.
  2. The Line & The VomitSunday's day party has an impossibly long line; the storyteller steps in vomit and assumes the night is over.
  3. The Stolen SpotMalachi whips a U-turn and cuts off a car that was already reversing into a parking space, stealing the spot outright.
  4. 'I Got You'The displaced drivers roll down their window, say 'I got you' directly to Malachi, and speed away — a threat the storyteller takes seriously and Malachi dismisses.
  5. The Circling CarInside the venue, one of Malachi's friends notices the other car repeatedly looping past their parked vehicle; Malachi still refuses to leave.
  6. The DamageWhen the group exits, they find the storyteller's car keyed across every surface, a tire slashed, and the license plate tampered with.
  7. The ReckoningThe storyteller reflects that her instincts were right from the moment she heard 'I got you,' and that trusting someone else's judgment cost her dearly.

Our take

Malachi is the real story here, and we're not going to soften that. He cut someone off mid-reverse — already a bold move in the parking-lot-audacity hall of fame — and then when that driver came back with a direct threat, when a car started circling the block like it had nowhere else to be, he shrugged and kept the night going. What we can't get past: it wasn't even his car on the line. He had nothing to lose. She had everything to lose. Her gut was already screaming before they'd even walked inside — the vomit, the threat, the circling car — and somehow the group decision was to stay anyway. Nobody wants to be the one who drags everyone home early, we get it. But that tightness in your chest isn't anxiety being dramatic. It's information. The lesson this one leaves behind: when someone says 'I got you' right after you've wronged them, that's not a figure of speech. That's a promise. Go home.

Your gut doesn't always speak in full sentences — sometimes it's vomit on the sidewalk, a car circling the block, and three words through a rolled-down window. Learn to read it before someone else's bad decision costs you everything.

Questions people ask

What happened to the car that was vandalized after the DC parking spot incident?

The car was keyed across every crevice, had a tire slashed, and the license plate was damaged — all while the group was inside a nearby venue.

What does 'I got you' mean as a threat?

In this context, 'I got you' was used as a warning that the other driver intended to retaliate — and as the storyteller's instincts told her, it was not a bluff.