the other night, i went out with a glamorous new york couple. we/ll call them larmi and zich. as the evening came to a close, i was shocked and delighted to be invited to their place for a little 'late night action.' turned out they meant having a few more brews and a selection of gummy bears.
they live in the murray hill section of manhattan which is sorta lower east side. specifically a few blocks from bellevue hospital, the infamous psychiatric care facility where only the homeless and the creepiest criminals get sent on the tv. directly across from their one bedroom love den is a housing project. they explained how un-ghetto it was and how safe they have always felt living there. the foreshadowing was so thick i could slice a piece off, fry it up and add it to a piece of white bread with lettuce and tomato.
we were debating the finer points of polygamy and it/s influence on country music when we heard loud popping sounds from outside. conversation paused as we all took a turn looking at each other. finally larmi asks, 'were those gunshots?' as zich was running to the front window, i confidently answered 'no, definitely not.' i was basing this on the fact that in chicago, in wicker park, in the barrio where i lived, fireworks were a common occurance. i think 4th of july was celebrated from approximately 2 weeks prior st. patrick/s day until the gravy cooled on thanksgiving. becaue of this, i felt i was an expert on the pop-pop-pop of blackcats and bottle rockets. after looking out the window, zich (who has lived in new york for 15 years) announced he thought it sounded like the report of a cheap handgun. i think my exact response was, 'you/re ka-razy.' at this point. our night continued on.
about a half hour later a buzz on the intercom interrupted us again. zich pressed the listen button and the voice on the other end announced himself as 'the cops.' zich laughed and pressed down, buzzing in the interloper. he explained that their elder neighbor has sons that stop by and since she can/t hear so well, they frequently buzz his apartment and mess with him. at that point, larmi noticed the cop cars lining the street and the section of sidewalk marked off with the easily recognizable yellow crime scene tape (they even had little white cards on the sidewalk marking the shell casings). we all peered out onto the scene unfolding in the street. 'who got shot' ricocheted inside each of our heads. after a few minutes, i made my second utterly wrong prophetic statement of the night. 'if it was a person who got shot we would know because there would be detectives on the scene. not just patrol units.'
at this point, i decided i had enough excitement for one evening. besides the shots, we had a visit from the before mentioned 93 year old neighbor. she is an entirely sweet woman, who is not cooking with a full pot of ziti if you catch my drift. also, a different neighbor stopped by to mention she recently got engaged to a jewish man whom she met at home depot. the jewish part is important because she was now attempting to learn hebrew so his family would accept her. her announced called for a round of celebratory vodka shots.
my brain had a lot to process as i trekked down the 4 flights of steps and to the building entrance. i opened the door to the street, i was confronted by 2 raincoat clad serious looking individuals interviewing a witness. a couple new york detectives straight out of law and order. i slid by as they gave me a cold once over. they decided i probably would not be either a help nor hidderence to their investigation since i was released to walk down the street on my own. later i learned that even though it was not a cold and gray chicago morning there was still a problem in this ghetto as well. a couple kids shot a guy outside the projects.
as i walked toward the subway, it dawned on me i had survived my first new york city shooting. for those keeping track, i need to point out i did not end up covered in silly string and crying myself to sleep like tom hanks in
big (possibly his last watchable movie). i didn/t really feel anything. while that fact may be sad, it tells me i/m already adapting to life in new york and its randomness.
