Invasion of the Backpack Mafia

Happy Friday and welcome to another weekend in J-Vegas. Not only will you have to endure an hour long wait to get in to swanky eateries such as Olive Garden and Logan's but you will find traffic along Western Blvd. at a stand still. While waiting at a stoplight behind a SUV loaded up with half a dozen kids and the ubiquitous I Heart My Marine and His Boots, Her Flops bumper stickers, take a moment to view one of Jacksonville's unique subcultures roaming the streets.

The Backpack Mafia

Their ranks consist of young Marines without wheels. Itching to get off the base, they descend upon Jacksonville in droves by piling in to a Tarheel Taxi that they are splitting the fare with their buddies. The Backpack Mafia receives its name from the backpacks they wear strapped to their backs, loaded down with changes of clothes and a toothbrush (you know... just in case some toothless stripper has a sitter for her four children that night and invites him back to her lovely trailer park home), Ipods, a few energy drinks and room to spare for whatever spoils of war they might pick up that weekend. The Backpack Mafia can be distiguished by their fresh High and Stupid haircuts, Tapout t-shirts and... oh... what's this?... a military issue web belt or pair of Birth Control Goggles? Way to proclaim your greenhorn status there!

No worries. The Tarheel Taxi driver will kindly drop them off at their first stop, The Jacksonville Mall, where the misled youth can pick up a new belt at such choice stores as American Eagle, Aeropostale or (for the more adventerous ones) Hot Topic or head over to Sears Optical for some new frames. After catching a movie and a bite to eat at Red Robin, most Backpack Mafia will move on the Barnes & Nobles to get a Starbucks coffee and make failed attempts at picking up on a Sergeant Major's sixteen year old daughter.

Tiring of these activities, the Backpack Mafia makes its slow descent down Western Blvd., stopping at Skin Art to contemplate getting a sweet new tribal USMC tattoo, running in to other Backpack Mafia members who heard about a bitching party at the Sunset Inn and stopping at Hooters to oogle some other Marine's wives wearing orange hot pants.

Sunday usually finds the Backpack Mafia sitting dejectedly on the curb of Wal-Mart after picking up some essential odds and ends, stuffed with Taco Bell or Waffle House chow and waiting for the Tarheel Taxi to return them to base. Poor kids.

The Punxsutawney Phil of J-Vegas

Winter is definitely not Jacksonville's best season. It is chilly and grey and tends to rain a lot. The beaches are abandoned. The residents of Jacksonville are grumpy and lock themselves indoors until the weather clears. The 5 minute wait at the stoplight of Highway 17 and Western Blvd. offers no entertainment.

Today I saw a sign of hope. While riding on Western to run some errands, I spotted a familiar figure in white sweatpants and a matching white warm up jacket walking towards that famous intersection. His jacket was already half unzipped to expose his bantam chest. The sun that had been struggling to burst out of the clouds all day gleamed off his bald head and glasses. Could it be? Is winter really over? Has Radio returned to entertain the gridlocked masses of J-Vegas?



It was him. I turned in to a giddy school girl, begging my car's driver to honk the horn, waving frantically and yelling his name.

The Jacksonville Ninja. Radio Rahim (or just Radio). His real name is Robert Mattocks. They say he walks from neighboring Maysville. Rumors of his death back in 2007 sent people in to a frenzy. Radio usually sets up shop on the corner of Western Blvd. and Highway 17 right by the Applebee's, although I have seen him elsewhere. Sometimes he carries a huge 80's boom box, sometimes he flies solo. He will be out there for hours, chopping and kicking, fusing karate with tai chi and throwing in some hip hop dancing.

I saw Radio for the first time on a trip to Jacksonville several years before I moved here. Shocked, I asked residents why there was a deranged man high kicking on a crowded street corner in 100 degree heat. The universal reaction I received was a proud smile followed by "Oh that's just Radio."

You rarely see Radio during the cold months. Maybe he hangs out in Maysville practicing this year's batch of kick ass ninja moves. I for one can't wait to see them. Welcome back, Radio and thanks for bringing the warmer weather with you!