Neighbors

Part of the joy of a low cash lifestyle (LCL) is the neighborhoods you tend to live in.

City dwelling LCLers tend to live in what I call transitional neighborhoods. These are places where uptight white people give you second glances when you live there, then recount an isolated act of violence from 8 years ago involving the neighborhood.

These are not bad neighborhoods, but they generally arn't the best. However, they always have the best neighbors.

I don't know what it is about semi-shitty neighborhoods that breed such great neighbors... I will have a few posts cataloging some of my favorites. There was pumpkin head, boy, dark boy, dark fabio, ob-man-drag, and others too numerous to mention.

I'll start with a personal favorite.

This one lady was an odd duck. She lived in the public housing building across the street, and she wore winter clothes all year long. You also would never see her without a stuffed oversized backpack.

Now, seeing a 50 year old lady walk around dressed for an artic tundra in 90 degree weather wasn't too horribly peculiar for the nighborhood. However, she felt the need to seek us out and talk to us on two occasions.

The first time this lady involved herself in my life, myself and three other friends were on the sidewalk chatting on a summer day. She was walking by on the sidewalk on the other side of the street. One of my friends is telling some pointless story or relating something from a tv show he had seen, when this lady interrupts us with a question:
Lady-"Excuse me, are you all talking about me?"
Me-"No?"
Lady-"Ok. You see, some people have been talking about me. I went to the library on Monday. I went to the movies on Tuesday. And on Wednesday the doctor shot me with a gun, but I got away and got better. And Sally was telling people how the doctor shot me, but I didn't want Sally to tell anyone. I don't like Sally. Were you all talking about me?"
Me-"No..."
Shot-me Lady-"Well Ok. Its not nice to talk about people."
Me-"...right..."
At this point Shot-me Lady walks away. as soon as she enters her building, the four of us collapse in laughter. That is what blooming unmedicated schizophrenia looks like after a wet spring.

Now, some background before this next part of the story. Myself and my then-roommate had reason to believe a serial arsonist was running around our neighborhood. There were multiple large structure fires in the area, and they always occured at the same time of day... (I should also note that I am a firefighter, and therefore have some expertise on the subject...)

We (myself and my roommate) were working on the first floor of our multistory house. I was hidden in a stairwell about halfway back in the house, and my roommate, Brian, was close to the front door. Someone knocked, and Brian opens the door assuming it is the UPS man for yet another roommate. To Brian's horror, he opens the door to Shot-me lady...
Brian-"uh... Hi."
Shot-me Lady-" ..... "
Brian-"Can I help you?
Shot-me Lady-"Does the fireman live here?" (Me- OH SHIT!)
Brian-"Who?"
Shot-me Lady-"There was a party here last week. And when I was walking by across the street, the fireman yelled from the porch at me. He said 'you got it, yeah, you got it.'" (this yelling incident did not take place)
Brian-"What?"
Shot-me Lady-"He said yeah, you got it. Is he here?"
Brian-"No."
Shot-me Lady-"Are you sure. blah blah McCrazy frakin blah. I don't like people yelling at me. There was a party here and all the people were talking about me and they were laughing...."

While Brian is stuck at the door with this crazy old bat, I had summoned other roommates to the stairwell to laugh at Brian's misfortune. After a few minutes, we call Brian on my cell phone, and whisper "get out". He finally works his way out of the conversation using my phone call, and closes the door on Shot-me Lady. We would retreat upstairs and hide/drink beer for the next few hours.

She would be readmitted to the "home" later that fall. The fires stopped at the same time.

Crazy neighbors....