5 June 2004
In The 'Hood
I walked around the corner to go to Walgreen's so I could buy some things:
- bleach
- envelopes
- picture frames
But the whole block of Haight Street between Fillmore and Webster was cordoned off and filled with cops. Some were uniformed beat cops, but most were men in suits and clean, unmarked sedans. Most of the businesses had their doors open, but no one was allowed to approach.
An officer from the DPT was guarding the "POLICE LINE - DO NOT CROSS" tape at one end of the block. "Fatality," he explained. "Another shooting." There have been three others within a mile of my house in the last 90 days, not counting fatal shootings by cops. One of them occurred last month on this same block of Haight.
I realized I had heard the shots, six or seven of them. I'm used to thinking, "Huh, were those gunshots I just heard?" and applying a quick test:
- Am I in the wilderness?
If so, the answer is almost always, "Yes, those were gunshots." It's only a problem if you also hear screaming, crying, or bullets whizzing past your ears. Otherwise, gunshots are routine. No big deal.
- Am I in the city?
It's usually just a car backfiring, or firecrackers, or heavy construction work. If it's not, I assume I'll hear some screaming, crying, or special serious-sounding sirens.
A couple of hours ago, when I thought I heard the shots, I turned off my music and stood at the open back door, listening. Nobody was screaming or crying. Nothing seemed to be happening. And if there were any sirens, I've learned to tune them out as part of the ambient urban soundscape. Now I hear them, sirens every five minutes or so....
By the way, for an excellent blog read, I recommend Strip Mining for Whimsy. It happens that yesterday he wrote a similarly-themed entry.