the nypd's flying fleet comes to say hello

The past few days I've had the pleasure of waking up to bird songs. It seems there are hundreds of birds roosting (I almost typed roasting) around my apartment, all eager to share the trials and tribulations of the long winter with one another. It's a nice sound, and one that makes me feel like I'm not in the middle of an urban wasteland. Refreshing.

However, today I woke up to an all together different kind of noise. Instead of a bugle call or a robin's call, I woke up to ... two NYPD helicopters hovering over my house. I think a third one might have been flying around too. The helicopters were almost directly above my room (I'm on the top floor), and since I had my window open from the previous night, my blissful sleep got interrupted by the very loud thunder of the NYPD's flying fleet.

I have no idea who they were after -- fugitive from the law? murderer? car jacker? -- but the NYPD certainly took their sweet time and stayed above my apartment for a solid 30 minutes or so.

I kept waiting for the 'copters to leave, but they weren't budging. I didn't want to shut my window either, because it's warm out today and my landlord hasn't turned the heat off yet, so that my radiator is slowly but surely toasting me to death. So I had to cope with the noise, the vague worry of some criminal trying to break into my apartment in a mad attempt to escape the helicopters, and the faint paranoia of 'oh my, are the popos after ME?' (I always think I'm in trouble, even when I've done nothing wrong.)

Eventually the helicopters flew off. I don't think they caught whoever they were looking for, but I haven't heard the NYPD come back, so they must have flown off to greener pastures.

At any rate, all of this was a nice distraction from stressing over finding a place to live for 6 weeks, being mad at the majority of people I know in the world, and realizing I still have a bunch of papers/books to read for class next week. I totally just exaggerated about being mad at the majority of people I know, but since the people I'm angry with have major significance in my life, it feels like I'm mad at more people than just them ... if that makes any sense.

Oh! and I met a paramedic last night and spoke with him briefly about a neighborhood I was potentially looking to move in to -- one that is notorious for being a straight up ghetto. (I mean, let's not mince words here people ... it has the top crime rate in NYC except for the South Bronx.) It's cheap and has an apartment that is month-to-month, which is why I'm considering it. The paramedic I spoke with happened to work in the particular neighborhood I'm interested in, and told me "Just stay away from _____ Avenue, all the stabbings and murders I take care of happen there."

However, he did add that none of them were random. I think he was implying all the murders were drug dealers and the like getting their due, but I wasn't sure. Still, kind of scary!

would you like to be in a police line up?

My friend Dan drove in from Long Island yesterday to come see me for an afternoon over his spring break. Within five minutes of parking his car, locking it and stepping onto the sidewalk along my street, he was asked by a complete stranger --

"Yo, so man, do you want to be in a police line up?"

I hadn't had a chance to say hello, and Dan was already was getting pressed into police duty.

The group of neighborhood guys who asked him had a slightly thuggish look, or, as I like to call it, 'I'm From Brooklyn and Refuse to Wear Well Fitting Pants.' (Wasn't the whole baggy pants thing out like, 5 years ago? Anyway.) They had on their baseball caps and one or two of them had freshly glazed over eyes, probably thanks to the copious amounts of marijuana a few of them smoke. I have the pleasure of smelling them and their drug of choice every time I walk by their apartment.

You have to understand that my friend is a lovely guy, and just very ... suburban. When I finally had a chance to give him a hello hug, he asked me in a slightly panicked voice, "What kind of neighborhood do you live in?!" For Dan to sound surprised -- or anything different from his usual infamous monotone we all love so much -- is a pretty big deal. So, I knew the boy had to be a little shaken up.

Fifteen minutes later, after a pit stop in my apartment, we were back outside again and bumped into the same crowd of guys, who were still attempting to press hapless souls into police line up duty. Apparently there was a promise of cash moneys, always a good incentive in this part of New York, since no one ever has any. However, how much they were offering to pay probably was no match to the question of 'What Happens If You Get Chosen Out of the Line Up -- And Aren't Guilty?'

Scary, scary.