I remember one time we was coming down to The Street to play from uptown and Bird had this white bitch in the back of the taxi with us. He done already shot up a lot of heroin and now the motherfucker’s eating chicken—his favorite food—and drinking whiskey and telling the bitch to get down and suck his dick. Now, I wasn’t used to that kind of shit back then—I was hardly even drinking, I think I had just started smoking—and I definitely wasn’t into drugs yet because I was only nineteen years old and hadn’t seen no shit like that before.
Anyway, Bird noticed that I was getting kind of uptight with the woman sucking all over his dick and everything, and him sucking on her pussy. So he asked if something was wrong with me, and if his doing this was bothering me. When I told him that I felt uncomfortable with them doing what they was doing in front of me, with her licking and slapping her tongue like a dog all over his dick and him making all that moaning noise in between taking bites of chicken, I told him, “Yeah, it’s bothering me.” So you know what that motherfucker said? He told me that if it was bothering me, then I should turn my head and not pay attention. I couldn’t believe that shit, that he actually said that to me. The cab was really small and we all three were in the backseat, so where was I supposed to turn my head? What I did was to stick my head outside the taxi window, but I could still hear them motherfuckers getting down and in between, Bird smacking his lips all over that fried chicken. Like I said, he was something, all right.
|—||Quoted from Miles, The Autobiography|