On the sidewalk you can peruse an assortment of items for sale from desperate souls. Stolen bicycles, packs of cigarettes, batteries, cases of Ensure and pornography. Every once in a while the police roll by in a paddy wagon van. The driver, wearing blue surgical gloves (I assume to keep the filth off his hands) leans out the window and slowly drives by before turning onto the sidewalk. It's a warning signal. The coherent ones scatter like roaches. Others don’t notice or don’t care and the police make a few arrests, leave and then 10 minutes later the leftovers scurry back and resume operations.
I am heading through the cesspool to my car. I need to run an errand. I need to pick up a modeling light for a flash. I step out into the street and while walking towards my car I stumble across something. I turn around and look at the ground and see that I just tripped on a yellow flip-flop sandal. I look back up just in time, as a full bag of clothing hits me in the chest. I then see a crazed woman cursing at me, "mother!#$!@ don’t step on my stuff bitch." She continues calling me names and generally howling at the moon. I rush past her as she goes to collect her bag and clothing. I hustle to my car and drive away; just another day in paradise.
