defending my neighborhood

I brought our Prius in to the downtown Toyota dealership for servicing and took advantage of their courtesy shuttle to get back home. When the car was ready, they sent the shuttle to retrieve me. I probably shouldn't have gotten into it with the other passenger, but I felt my neighborhood needed defending.

Let me back up: I opened the back door of the courtesy shuttle, climbed in and said hello to the driver and passenger. We rode in silence, but when the driver stopped at the corner before making a right turn, some water splashed onto the windshield.

Driver: Oh, look at that! Raindrops! It's raining.
Me: Good, I'm done with this heat.
Passenger: (laughs) Oh, I don't think that's rain.
Driver: No, I heard it was going to rain this weekend.
Passenger: (laughs) In this neighborhood, that could be, you know, anything coming out of these windows.
Me: (looking up at the SB Manhattan, SB Lofts, Hayward Hotel) Oh please, this neighborhood is not that bad. Bodily fluids are not being squirted out the windows onto the street.
Passenger: I used to work down the street on Spring... I'd see all sorts of things.
Me: Yeah, how long ago was that? Save it sister, I've lived downtown for seventeen years and I've seen the neighborhood go through changes. Sure, they used to throw bodies out the windows of these buildings, but that was years ago. That was probably water from someone's rooftop jacuzzi.

Ha ha, right? Late the other night, Jim and I are on Spring, walking Wonton. A guy is walking on the sidewalk ahead of us when someone dumps a large amount of water out a window of the SB Manhattan, hitting him. He jumps out of the way, missing most of the deluge. Then, seconds later, someone throws a water bottle out the window and hits the sidewalk with a huge, sickening thud. That could've landed on me, or Jim, or my precious little Wonton. Stupid motherf*#$ing neighborhood.

sb lofts

I looked out my kitchen window this morning and noticed a crane lifting stuff onto the SB Lofts' rooftop.












During the Internet boom-years, I met with Cheryl, the building manager, to lease office space. She took me on a tour of the building, including the 13000 sq ft penthouse. She asked where I lived, and I told her that I lived in the penthouse of the Alexandria Hotel down the street. She said, "I have a funny story about Marty Sr. (then-owner of the hotel). I had asked him about managing the hotel for him and he pulled pulled a gun on me." Yeah, that sounds like Marty Sr.

Downtown sure is changing.