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Ordinary Adventures Blog

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A Mis-Adventure


simplybill

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It's a good day to stay indoors and do some writing. Lots of wind and snow. I've gone outside twice to clear away the snow from the garage door, just in case I run out of hot dogs and ice cream and I have to make a trip to the grocery store.

But what to write? Aside from the fact that I feel narcissistic when writing about myself, there's also the feeling that maybe my adventures are less about adventurism, and more about foolishness. A wiser man may have avoided the situations I've found myself in.

One example is when I moved into a "bad neighborhood" in Salt Lake City. I'd gotten a job in a frozen food warehouse, and I found a small apartment just six blocks away so I could walk to work and save up for a car.

The warehouse was kept at -10 degrees year round, and at lunchtime we sometimes went for takeout food while wearing our insulated coveralls when it was 90 degrees outside. We looked funny, but there was no sense in changing clothes, and then changing again. I suppose we were just being lazy.

The warehouse was near the infamous "2nd South" where the prostitutes hung out. The girls that could afford cars would park in the empty lot next door, and on hot summer days I would bring them frozen popsicles. My co-workers would line up on the loading dock, and the girls would smile and wave at them in appreciation for their popsicles.

I lived in a tiny, ground-floor apartment on Jackson Street, which was about as wide as an alleyway. The houses and apartments were close together, and the big, overhanging trees made the street feel like a tunnel. I was in the end unit of a four-plex, just a few feet from the road.

Some gang members lived directly across the street from me. I don't know what they called themselves, but there was a crudely-painted Puerto Rican flag on the outside wall of their apartment. Gangs in Utah are kind of strange, mainly because of the Mormon influence. The Church sponsors people from all over the world, and they often stay in their own groups for "protection". It's not unusual for a gang member to be arrested with a gun in one pocket and a Book of Mormon in another pocket.

One day I was stretched out on my couch reading a book. It was Labor Day, not normally a big day of celebration, so I was surprised to hear firecrackers outside. I pulled back the drapes and looked out, and there, ten feet away, were two guys with guns wildly shooting at another guy. One had a revolver, the other had a rifle. The guy they were shooting at had a cast on one leg, and was hobbling away on his crutch as fast as he could. Then, for some reason, the crutch guy turned around and began hobbling back toward the two shooters, waving his free arm and yelling. The shooters resumed shooting, the guy hobbled away, and then AGAIN he turned around to continue yelling and waving.

By this time, I was down on the floor peeking over the edge of the window sill, worried about a stray bullet crashing through the window. But when I saw the crutch guy turn around a THIRD time and walk straight toward the shooters, I almost ran out to the street to yell, "RUN AWAY!". I really didn't want to see the guy get gunned down in front of me. (My common sense kept me from doing so, or perhaps I wouldn't be here writing this.)

The police came in like an army, surrounding the entire neighborhood. I've never seen so many guns and uniforms in one place. I walked outside and saw the crutch guy surrounded by police, and a little ways down the street there was a body stretched out face-down on the ground. He wasn't moving, and later I was told that he'd been paralyzed by a shot in the back.

According to the newspaper, the neighborhood gang had gone to a party a few days before, and someone at the party had gotten stabbed. Their rivals had come to our neighborhood for revenge.

About two years later I went to visit a friend in another part of town, and when I walked into his house the crutch guy was standing there, right there in my friend's living room. It turns out they were working together coaching a Little League baseball team. "Louie" had apparently changed his ways, and was trying to be a good family man. I hope he's doing well.

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