Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Bar fights and pickpockets.
So there's a stop downtown which I consider to be the worst bus stop in the downtown area. There's about six blocks worth of unsavory stops, but this one is the worst of them. It sits right in front of the Chee Chee bar, what you might think from the name to be a strip joint. I don't think it is, although I've never been inside. I want to go inside for one drink, just at least once, but I haven't been able to convince any friends to do it with me and there's just no way I will do it alone. Tough drinkers hang out in this bar. This also means there are usually drunk people standing outside smoking, and the bus stop is literally right in front of the door. On top of this, other characters either hang at or wait at this bus stop. If you have the misfortune of having to wait here, you will be given a lesson about this stop by the people waiting there with you, even if they aren't speaking directly to you. Every time I've waited at this stop the other people around have talked about how many times they've been pick-pocketed and how many fights they've seen at the stop. For this reason I usually do my waiting at a much more populated area several blocks away. However, sometimes it's unavoidable. Like one night on Mardi Gras they had to reroute several bus lines because of the festivities downtown. This meant I had to wait at the Chee Chee bus stop. As I was walking up, two young black men got into a very intense fist fight. I'd never seen a fist fight in real life, only on television. There's a palpable electricity in the air when it happens. The minute it broke out, I stopped dead in my tracks and stood watching for several minutes. I decided the next possible bus stop was an even worse choice on a night like this, when there were drunk people everywhere, and so I hid behind the route sign and peaked around the corner. The fight dissolved after several seconds and the electricity in the air floated away into nothingness. It was not long after that a cop rode by on his bicycle. Talk about timing.
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I was once witness to a drunken fist fight when I lived in Boston. There was a party across the street and two guys came outside and really started wailing into each other. We called the cops and of course they only got there when the fight was over.
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