It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

So won't you be my neighbor?

Since I'm sure everyone is wondering what my life is like in the ever-exciting burg of Anchorage, let me just fill you in.  Often I am asked where I live, and when I tell people, I am given a similar response, "You live there? Is it safe?"  So what does that tell you?  I know! I know! I live in the hood.  Yeah, it's true.  I live on the wrong side of the tracks. I didn't know that when I moved in.  No, I had no clue.  I found this apartment while I was in the safety of my own apartment in a neighborhood full of dogs and baby strollers in San Francisco.  How was I to know that I was about to move to the bad side of town?

Nothing terribly exciting has happened over here.  Sure, I have to walk two miles to get anywhere.  And, anytime I walk, cars honk at me, and men call out to me.  They say things like, “Lookin’ good!”, “Girl, you fine.”, and “That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout”. But, that's normal, right?  And yes, there are a few more guard dogs than I'm used to seeing.  And yes, I do get irritated with my roommates when they leave the window open (seeing as how we live on the ground floor and all).  But, it's not all bad.  Well, I guess one of our neighbors in the complex has a red pick-up truck with the words, "Louisiana Redneck" emblazoned on the back window.  But, really?  Is that such a bad thing?

Last night I went out to a bar/club, and one of the people I met inquired as to the safety of my neighborhood.  I reassured her that everything was fine.  Then, I had a flurry of dreams that were quite to the contrary.  One dream involved a police raid on the entire building, where my neighbors were scurrying around trying to hide.  One of the neighbors ran through the building, yelling, "The cops are here!  Hide!"

Luckily that was a dream.

Oh, and just now...at 2:00 AM, I hear the pitter-patter of little feet running through the hallway.  Maybe the kid has a different bedtime than other little ones.  Who am I to judge?  I'm awake.  I just happen to be an adult, and I'm in charge of my own schedule...but who's counting?

At any rate, I thought this might be a good time to talk about my little jaunt from downtown back home today.  It really sums up the neighborhood.

Whenever I walk to or from downtown, I make an effort to walk down one of the lettered streets because they are typically nicer and less...gravelly...trafficky...full of crazies. (Note: I did say “less”, so don’t think it’s like walking through a gated golf course community on the other streets.)  Today, I chose "A" Street.  As I walked down the street, toward 15th, I noticed a crazy man ahead of me.  He was at least one block ahead of me, and he would periodically stop, point at things and yell at his invisible companion.  Every so often, I was the object about whom he was pointing and yelling.  At other times, he would hit the parking meters, and occasionally, put money in them.  I eventually caught up to him and walked slowly behind him until I had a chance to pass him.  Seeing as how he was randomly yelling, I didn't want to do anything that might aggravate him.

Once I passed him, I opted to walk down 10th Street toward Gambell.  My reason?  Well, I had to do laundry, and I figured I should try to get some quarters at the grocery store.  As I walked toward Gambell, I noticed a couple of homeless men sitting in an abandoned parking lot, screaming at each other about something unintelligible.  Quite honestly, I don’t know that they were screaming at each other--one was screaming while the other was sympathizing.  Now, I'm from San Francisco, so this sort of thing doesn't really faze me.  

Perhaps that's why I never noticed that I was living in the bad part of town.  I passed them, along with the other homeless that I often see yelling at each other, me, or nothing in particular.  (Just as a side note, I did see the homeless couple that I passed about a month ago downtown.  They were yelling at each other as usual.  This time, they didn't have any special deliveries.  And by special deliveries, I mean plastic bags full of human waste that they stow in the free newspaper dispensers along the sidewalk.)

I walked another block and a half, and I could see the grocery store.  As I got closer, I saw more angry homeless people shouting at no one and at everything simultaneously.  Then I saw a couple in love, and I became my mother (as in, I thought, "This is no place for love-making!").  They were leaning against the trashcan right next to the front entrance of the store.  They were so enraptured with each other that they were completely unaware of their surroundings.  Perhaps they thought they were in the privacy of their own bedroom or were on a deserted beach on Fantasy Island, because the way they were making out suggested that sweet, sweet love was in their near future...and might be witnessed by everyone planning on buying their Independence Day provisions at the grocery store.  (Though, I would recommend only buying boxed foods from the store.  Their deli smells like the refrigeration isn't working properly).

I walked right next to them as they smacked and slurped by the entrance, but I said nothing.  The crazy homeless person on the other side of the entrance also said nothing.  By the time I left the store, they had all but disappeared, and I saw a few crazies wander over to the bar and lounge next door (which, I might add, is the place currently seeking a cocktail waitress, and I considered applying for about 10 seconds).

And then I walked the rest of the way home.  The neighbor’s Doberman pinscher that could easily leap over their 3-foot fence didn’t attack me.  Rather, another neighbor’s 3-legged golden retriever and Pomeranian rushed me.  I won't lie.  I was a little scared.  That Pomeranian meant business.

So that's my neighborhood.  I didn't even tell you about the projects that are behind my building.  I walk by those when I go to the Fred Meyer (my preferred grocery store).  It really is beautiful.  I'm just thankful we have a family of moose to keep us all in line.