LOL! Those 20 minute traffic jams are a dead giveaway, too.
I moved onto a long block that had two places owned by the Bloods across the street from each other about '89. One was an apartment building where the rank and file crew lived, directly across the street was the crack house. The crack house was on the river side of the street. At night I'd hear shots coming from down that way, but being a country boy my natural thought was, "Somebody is shooting rats on the riverbank." and go back to sleep. Little did I know.
When it came to folks like that, I was always taught it was better to stay on their good side than antagonize them. I'd speak to them when they strolled by and let them borrow my mower and tools when they asked. I never had a problem with them returning them. One night there was big gunfight down there. Their rivals had rolled through to shoot up the crack house, not realizing that the main crew was holed up in the cinderblock apt. building across the street? I had a big clawfoot cast-iron bathtub in the house and jumped in it until the coast was clear. There were tons of rounds fired but only a few people were wounded. The cops haul 'em out arrest them and board both places up.
A few days later one kid I used to talk to regularly comes walking down the alley. He say's "You got a crowbar?" I told him I had a pry bar. He ask if he can borrow it. I said sure. He heads over to apartment building, pries open a side window, climbs in and comes out with a good sized box. He hands me my pry bar, says "Thanks" and that's the last I ever saw of any of them.
That night every car on that block had their tires slashed except mine. It's always better to stay on folks like that good side. My guess is it was a little goodbye gesture to the block.
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