Summertime and the Crazies are Out

Ok it’s time to talk shit about my neighborhood again. A few weeks ago, Carl the Pilot was in town and drops me off from late night dinner. I suddenly hear what sounds like a cracker or a burst-tire echo in the night. It sounds incredibly close and I am concerned enough to flex my arm and leg muscles, and fumble for my keys (strange how the fight or flight reflex gets turned on within 2 seconds). Carl rolls down his window and yells “GET BACK IN THE HOUSE RIGHT NOW!”. My whole body feels flushed with icy blood (in other workds “my blood runs cold”) and I clumsily manage to open the inside gate, rush in and open the front door to my house, as another shot is being fired.

Carl had just witnessed the owner of a gun fire excitedly towards a departing white car. Now, I should add that I hear gun shots about once every three days in my street, but that I was never caught outside of my apartment when it happened.

Yesterday around 12:00 p.m., I hear screeching in the street, followed by a sudden dull crushing sound. Peering from behind my curtains, I see a car crashed into a parking fence with a cop car behind it. A skiddish policeman gets out from his car, grabs a flashlight, and walks along the long perimeter of the fence, throwing arcs of light beyond the parking lot and around the oversized dumpsters. I can only conclude that the police car was chasing the person in the car, the car tried to outrun the police but hit the fence instead. The driver fled the vehicle and ran into the night.

These incidents and many more, have been increasing at an alarming rate. The police (whom we call every time there’s an incident) have been blaming the nice weather for the increased activity in the streets and gentrification for the loss of drug-dealing territories.

Alls I can say is “Man, I am paying way too much for my room in Columbia Heights” and “please, please, please, go back to bed people and let me sleep”.

I feel really bad for the kids who live on my street.