If I had to use one word to describe my neighborhood, I'd probably go with "Pleasantville." If I had five words, I'd follow up with "When it's black and white."
Seriously, children swinging on rope swings in the front yard, my virgin-Mary Laurels doing service projects throughout the neighborhood, and charming elderly people walking tiny dogs.
No, it is not as exciting as living next to meth dealers (our first apartment,) or worrying about things getting stolen out of our cars, but it is nice.
And it means I'm totally comfortable going on evening walks, usually around 12:30 or 1:00 am. Which is when I discovered this:
Three streets down, a man wearing nothing but a wife-beater and boxer shorts plays rap music in his backyard. He stands in the corner of the yard, holding rainbow neon light-up baton things, which he swings in carefully orchestrated routines. Under the legs! Flip! Swish! Swivel! Sometimes, he sings along with the terribly offensive lyrics. Swing, "F*^& yeah!" Swish, "Rap lyrics rap lyrics rap lyrics!" Swivel! "Hell yeah!"
For the sake of blog accuracy, I just checked. He's out tonight, this time playing some form of techno.
I don't think he can see me, but I think out neighborhood just got a little more colorful. Frankly, I'm relieved.