Scenes from Murderville:

I am a Peeping Tom although I don’t like to look at it that way. If you asked me, I would say I’m a spectator. Peeping Tom’s look in windows and lurk in bushes. They have binoculars à la James Stewart in “Rear Window”. I do none of these things. I stay in the relative safety of my home and peer out through small cracks in the blinds. If you choose to have an argument outside, I am going to watch. The same goes if you’re having a raucous party.

I was thinking about this the other night while sitting at home watching Top Chef reruns. I kept hearing something outside my window- not unusual, this is Murderville- but the noise persisted. I leaned over the back of my couch, slowly separated the 7th and 8th blind slats, and peered outside. Nothing was there! “Okay,” I thought, “kinda weird”. No sooner had I turned Tom Colicchio back on then the noise started up again. It sounded like a one-sided party, but every time I looked outside nothing was there! Finally, after 15 minutes of what I discovered later was yelling (poor thing, should really work on sounding scary), I finally saw someone outside. It was such a let down, this tiny person all puffed up and slamming the courtyard gate. It was kinda cute.

Last night, we had a bit of rain but I had no idea it was going on. You see: f I hear thunder, I assume it’s my upstairs neighbor working on her clogging, or dropping bowling balls on the ground, whatever it is she’s up to. I’ve never seen so small a person create so much noise! If there is lighting outside, I assume it’s the police again. It needs to be a raging storm for me to be aware. This is what living in Murderville does to a person. I didn’t even get up to look outside this time. I figured it was just my diminutive neighbor yelling at someone again.

I can’t remember if I told the legendary Fence story already or if I told it in response to some one else’s post. If I haven’t, let me know and I will include it in my next postcard. It really is a doozy and helps showcase my complete lack of awareness. Actually, that isn’t quite right or fair. I’m a pretty observant person. I “watch my 6”. I don’t think it’s that I’m not aware so much as I’ve seen enough that it has to be pretty special for me to care. I’m apathetic. They don’t call it Murderville for nothing, and you’ve got to be aware of what’s going on around you, especially if you’re peeking out the windows at night! That being said, I really wish my friend who also lives there would stop yelling out my name in the parking lot at 3 o’clock in the morning when we’re getting home from work and the bars. The last thing a slightly inebriated person needs to hear in the dark parking lot is there name. Freaks me out every time.

Postcard from Murderville

Last night, around midnight, I found myself lying face down on the floor next to my couch. Odd popping sounds from outside forced me to duck and cover.

"Finally," I thought, "The gun fire everyone has been talking about!"

A couple months ago an old friend was visiting and dubbed my neighborhood "Murderville" Even in broad daylight he could sense something wasn't quite right in the hood. I love the eclectic vibe my area affords me- the remodeled historic homes and apartments, the dilapidated shacks, the mini mansions. It's the reason I live here, why I've always wanted to live here. If you as me, I say I live in the East Village. Unfortunately, Murderville is what everyone now remembers. Thanks!

I had some time to think while I was on the floor: Can I reach my phone? These don't sound like shots fired, but what are the? Should I get up? No, idiot! What would your Dad say? What if they were gunshots? Stay down!! How much does it cost to replace a window? What about the wall? What's that echo?

Ten "shots" later, I pick myself off the floor and casually look outside. Nothing is there. Not in the courtyard, not at the crack house across the street, not anywhere. Surely I would see something outside, right?

The sorry truth is, probably not. About a year ago, I was sitting on the couch watching one of those sappy Hollywood movies you can only watch at home alone and never tell anyone you saw it, when I heard a noise outside. I peeked out the window but didn't see anything there. I went back to my Will Smith movie- damn, I shouldn't have said that! Anyway, a couple minutes later, I heard a noise again coming from my courtyard. When I looked out the window I saw a guy leaning against the gate. "Silly drunk", I thought; and went back to my movie. Not a minute later, I heard yelling in the courtyard as someone, presumably the drunk, tried to beat down the door to an apartment. "Weirdo".

Several minutes later, I notice a flashing of red and blues and peek out the window to the street. There were about six cruisers, and ambulance, and all the cops and paramedics to go with them. In my courtyard, a stretcher carried the drunk out and into the ambulance. Cops milled about, checking out the fence, talking to neighbors. This was just too go to miss! I quickly put on an outfit befitting the situation (i.e. no pajamas), and went outside. A young policeman came up and asked me if I heard anything so I recounted the story above. Apparently, the guy wasn't a drunk, or at least that's not all he was. You see, when I first heard the noise and looked outside, the guys was impaled on the spikes atop my courtyards fence. When I looked back outside and saw him leaning against the fence, he had wiggled himself free. When I heard yelling and pounding, he was trying to get his friends attention. It was a gruesome sight.

I have no idea what the noise I heard last night was. Maybe firecrackers? BB gun? Car backfiring several times? Maybe it was a gun? Maybe the echoing noise was caused by the layout of my courtyard. Like they say in those Tootsie Rolls commercials, the world may never know.