I was lily white guy living in ground zero of MS13 gangland in Los Angeles in the early 2000s for four years. I know it’s crazy, but best neighbors I ever had. We all bbq’d together, watched each other’s kids, and got along well.
One morning I was taking a bus to work. Two guys robbed me while I was standing at the bus stop. I had fifteen dollars, which I happily gave to them.
I went over to my neighbor that evening and told him what happened.
The next day, there was fifteen dollars in my mailbox.
I moved from there to high end HOA in Texas and holy hell it was miserable. I hated them all. They were the nosiest, most judgemental assholes imaginable. One lady would go walking down the alleys checking how many beer cans people had in their recycling and called the police on one house charging them with child neglect because of beer cans in their recycling bin. Fuck that neighborhood forever.
(There’s a funny coda to the robbery. I smoked a lot back then. When they were done shoving the gun in my ribs and walking away, I blurted out, “guys, I’m stressed. Do one of you have a light?” and I swear on a stack of books of your choice that one of them turned around and lit my cigarette)
This is real. I’ve had folks in my cab that clearly were trying to probe my boundaries to see if I’m an easy target who immediately switched gears the moment I showed my personality. Just because someone is desperate doesn’t mean they want to fuck over someone who’s cool with them and is real. The way you carry yourself makes a difference.
It’s pretty obvious if you meet me in person that I’m a broke artist who cares about real people and detests fake corporate bullshit. That’s not really an appealing target and I have fuck all to give them anyway.
But if some fuck shoots me for being on their street while being trans, or literally just someone they don’t recognize, I don’t get the chance to show how I carry myself.
I was lily white guy living in ground zero of MS13 gangland in Los Angeles in the early 2000s for four years. I know it’s crazy, but best neighbors I ever had. We all bbq’d together, watched each other’s kids, and got along well.
One morning I was taking a bus to work. Two guys robbed me while I was standing at the bus stop. I had fifteen dollars, which I happily gave to them.
I went over to my neighbor that evening and told him what happened.
The next day, there was fifteen dollars in my mailbox.
I moved from there to high end HOA in Texas and holy hell it was miserable. I hated them all. They were the nosiest, most judgemental assholes imaginable. One lady would go walking down the alleys checking how many beer cans people had in their recycling and called the police on one house charging them with child neglect because of beer cans in their recycling bin. Fuck that neighborhood forever.
(There’s a funny coda to the robbery. I smoked a lot back then. When they were done shoving the gun in my ribs and walking away, I blurted out, “guys, I’m stressed. Do one of you have a light?” and I swear on a stack of books of your choice that one of them turned around and lit my cigarette)
There’s a certain weird honor in lighting the cigarette of the guy you just robbed. It’s kinda respectable.
In the moment it felt like a “nothing personal just business”
I love this comment.
This is real. I’ve had folks in my cab that clearly were trying to probe my boundaries to see if I’m an easy target who immediately switched gears the moment I showed my personality. Just because someone is desperate doesn’t mean they want to fuck over someone who’s cool with them and is real. The way you carry yourself makes a difference.
It’s pretty obvious if you meet me in person that I’m a broke artist who cares about real people and detests fake corporate bullshit. That’s not really an appealing target and I have fuck all to give them anyway.
But if some fuck shoots me for being on their street while being trans, or literally just someone they don’t recognize, I don’t get the chance to show how I carry myself.