Voicemail...

Don’t you hate it when your favorite television program ends on a cliffhanger the week before the holidays, or sweeps, or God forbid summer hiatus? And then you have to cope with reruns, or specials and it is just misery. It sucks. Well, I’m doing it to you this week with The Neighborhood Watch - On the Corner of Happy St. and Merman Way. It’s far better than a rerun though, it’s a special – actually, it’s an emergency. I am interrupting your scheduled blog sequel to share the most delicious moment to date in the ‘hood. I just couldn’t wait another minute to tell you what happened! I have wanted to call you, text and shout over Facebook, but knew the best way was to just interrupt Part II of Disgruntled Neighbor and tell you now.

Do you remember when I told you about the neighborhood gentleman that mows our lawn? A young guy who is usually looking to stay out of trouble, but also looking for it around every corner? Well, I’ll name him Al, why not. Al is 21. He’s been to jail and has a record. The contents of his record are sealed because he was a minor, but through his own admission it was for a burglary where he tied up a woman…in her home…so he could rob her. He’s a high-school dropout with no GED and a true hustler, a yard worker, a cook in a Downtown restaurant, and he also works security at a nightclub. He does anything and everything he can to get paid in cash so he can contribute to the household that contains his girlfriend and their 18-month-oldish baby. He’s not the best or most consistent worker, but he is a hustler. Mostly Al likes to smoke the marijuana with his girlfriend. She’s a tall, pretty girl, who is gainfully employed as a manager at the local grocery chain. For two young parents they are making it work better than most in similar situations, so I give them a lot of credit for their fortitude.

When we first moved in, Al would be hanging around the street with a group of men similar in age smoking, and doing whatever it is 21-year-old, unambitious, high school drop out, stoners do (no judgment, just facts). Jason and I would be doing whatever it is newly married, first time homeowners, comedic couples do. Being the super vanilla folk that we are, we would say hello and they would say hello back. And since this was the pattern between them and Us, I thought nothing of it when the ‘Us’ became me and I extended a solo hello, to which no one replied. In fact, not only did no one reply, but they also shifted their eyes to avoid me. Hm. Unimpressed, on every occasion I was alone I would continue to say hello again, and again, and again, refusing to give up and always receiving the silent treatment. In fact, so outraged was the feminist in me that once I walked directly up to the group and said hello until finally someone grunted acknowledgment. Phew. Exhausted, but satisfied, I felt I had made my point. What point exactly I made is lost on me to this day…and I’m sure on them as well.

My battle did not end there. No, in fact it continued. I would be alone and say hello to almost everyone in the neighborhood, as only a true Midwesterner would, and the pattern would continue with the lack of a response. In Al’s case, I would say hello to his girlfriend first when they walked by and they would simultaneously ignore me, unless my husband was present announcing the hello for Us. Ugh. I was disgusted with this misogyny. Was it cultural? Was it hateful? Was it annoying? Who could truly answer this question?

On one particular weekend early on, Jason had to leave town. I was alone. One of the 21-year-olds decided to park his car in my driveway and then sat on the stoop of the house across the street from mine while his friends slowly congregated, not Al, but others. And while they didn’t acknowledge me or respond when I asked whose car it was, they continued to talk amongst each other and stare at me. Trying to intimidate me. For what purpose I couldn’t tell you. I don’t know, but it irritated me. It made the battle cry in my gut roar. I wasn’t going to tolerate being bullied, and I wasn’t going to show them fear, because I was not going to give them the satisfaction of feeling they had any power over me. No. I called the LAPD non-emergency and was promptly placed on hold for over thirty minutes. I then called 911 and they transferred me to -- non-emergency where I waited for another thirty minutes. Finally a desk officer took my call and I was informed that my driveway was public property unless I posted a “private property” sign. Additionally, my yard and my front porch were also considered public property despite my gate, unless I posted a No Trespassing sign. And unless the “boys” hit me or pulled an assault weapon on me they were allowed to loiter without consequence. I hung up on the LAPD after a few choice words about their negligence and the fact that "if anything happened they shouldn’t sleep well because it would be their fault for not protecting the innocent as they were sworn to do.” And without thinking twice, I went to my room, pulled out my police grade Taser gun and holding it like a gun in one hand (it’s pink on purpose so it looks like a toy), held my cell phone to my ear and stood on my front porch like a woman (think Sigourney Weaver – Alien) and spoke at an elevated level:

“Yes, officer, I have no idea whose car is in my driveway, it must be abandoned. Well, I don’t want anyone to have to pay the price of a ticket for illegally parking a car here, in my driveway, but I do think it’s necessary to send the tow truck because my husband will need access to the driveway shortly. It's funny, people know better than to do this in DETROIT. Thank you.”

Within 10 seconds, the car was moved and the 21-year-olds began to address me with courteous and pleasant hellos that day forward, except Al. He and his girlfriend continued to ignore me, but not my husband. It wasn’t until on a walk with our dogs when we encountered them on a neglected pathway smoking a huge joint, baby – then an infant - in tow, did they decide to address me as well as Jason. I am sure they were fearful of what we’d do, say, or report to the police, that forced them to make an effort to be friendly. Since that day, a year ago, they both say hello to me whenever we pass by each other. We also pay Al to mow our lawn. Now, I don’t like Al. Never have. Here is a picture of Al:

Not only does he look like an Orc, but he also gives me the same feeling the Orc’s gave Bilbo Baggins. Which leads me to our current event. Our neighbors across the way, Nice Guy & Nice Girl, in an effort to follow suit and make a peaceful gesture to the neighbors, hired Al to do some lawn work. Al never showed up. He didn’t call and he never stopped by to apologize. While it may be typical of him to miss a day of work, it is not like him to not call or stop by with an excuse. So, it came as no surprise to me that while it took him four months, he finally did stop by their home. While they were out. And had a contractor at their house doing some work. Al demanded the contractor give him Nice Guy’s phone number and arguing with the contractor when he refused. The contractor did the right thing. He didn’t want to give private information out to a stranger...(this blog doesn't count). At some point during that same day Al found Nice Guy’s number. Perhaps from another neighbor, or maybe he had it in his phone all along and just couldn’t remember at the time where he had filed it. At any rate, he called and left the following message…

I know what you’re thinking. It’s the first thing I thought too, why not me? Why is Al’s lady not jealous of me? Am I not pretty enough? Am I not threatening enough!? Oh. I get it. It’s because my neighbor, Nice Girl has a body like this:

You can imagine it right, J-Lo hot and bothered for an Orc? Think about it. Totally makes sense to me. I’d be jealous too. I mean, Al totally has it going on, let’s review his resume:

21-year-old high-school dropout, criminal record, no GED, no means to support his family on a regular basis, has a kid, shifty friends, and looks like like this: