I feel misunderstood

Before I continue my summer recap, I thought it would be nice to document a couple of confusing situations I have been engaged in since I moved to New York two days ago. Here goes.

Bob and I went to an improv show the other night after our plans to go to the Mets Rockies game were demolished by torrential rain. We saw a good show, then saw an amateur improv show where any groups that wanted to could sign up and perform. Don't worry, we didn't sign up. But as we sat down in our seats, a man passed us with the logo below tattooed to his arm:

He was a rockies fan! We had so much in common! Bob and I both yelled "ROCKIES!!" to which he looked back with confusion, noticed our fingers pointing at his tatt, and replied "nah nah nah It's crips. Ya'll crips?"

This was a misunderstanding. I assumed Rockies, but he was a gang member. When I told this story to Jared C., he asked what color the tattoo was. Sadly, the dark blackness of this man's skin inhibited my ability to distinguish between a purple and black tatt (baseball) and red tatt (hood). I felt terrible.

Misunderstanding #2:
We went to Wendy's late last night. I ordered a Dr Pepper and a Junior Bacon Chee, and Jared C. orders a crispy chicken sandwich. Mine takes a while, and while I was waiting Jared and Bob went to sit down. I waited for 5 minutes before she asked who was also waiting for 2 Crispy Chickens. I looked back at a hungry Jared C, and replied "Yah that's my friend, I'll grab it for him." I waited a couple of minutes, got the food, then walked to the table. When I arrived, Jared was already eating a crispy chicken sandwich.

I had taken someone else's Crispy chickens. I figured that person may have forgot ordering them, so if I waited long enough and didn't get caught I'd be two fried chicken slabs richer. I put them on the table next to me, and within 2 minutes the angry woman from the counter came storming towards me with an evil look like I was her baby's daddy and just got custody. (sidenote: I'm not racist. It's just coincidence that she was black, served me fried chicken, and gave me the baby daddy look. Don't hate me) She asked where the chicken was, and I pointed nervously to it on the table next to us, as though I was trying to pass the blame off on the table for being the sandwich thief.

I keep getting misunderstood in this city. Lets hope that changes.