September 17, 2008
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A drug deal gone wrong
I used to work as a door to door salesman for Verizon. My day would consist of going to businesses, asking them how their day is while explaining who I was and then asking them to switch their phone service to Verizon. I rarely got past the part of who I was before I was told to leave or that the boss isn't in. (even though they probably were in)
You can really absorb a culture walking around an area all day in the bright, scathing sun. This particular neighborhood in southwest Philadelphia had a barber and a corner store at every...well corner. These corner stores had 1" thick, clear plexi-glass walls at the counter with unenthusiastic shop owners behind them. The neighborhood around me just felt older, like it was a decade behind. There were empty lots and fantastic places of ruin where my imagination could run wild with who had lived there and what made them leave. There were forgotten churches, specialty African food stores and a lot of stories to be heard.
I stopped at a Wendy's one day after making a crawl through the first row of businesses. I ordered my food and decided to go to the bathroom. I finished my main purpose and was washing my hands when a guy approached me from behind. I didn't know where he came from, I didn't remember the door opening or the stall but there he was.
He asked me if I wanted some drugs while drying his hands. I got a little jittery at this point, having an "out of body" experience, trying to digest what he is saying. I said something corny like "No man, I don't swing that way..." He said alright and left as fast and casually as he came in.
I kept thinking that it would be risky business going up to random people like that, what if I was an off duty cop? Doesn't this guy have his own "network" of buyers? The only explanation I can think of is that he is desperate or just starting on his crusade of drug dealing or just completely accepted as "life".
It made me think about poverty, about my own background of coming from an insulated small town in the Midwest. I rarely have had to deal with the gruesomeness of always trying to find money and the culture that prevails it and when I have I knew I had a red button to push and the parents could bail me out. I think this is the reason why I felt immediately scared and afterward immediately curious.
Comments (1)
I live in the city and in a rougher neighborhood. On occasion I'll get approached by a dealer but it isn't often. The dealers are a little more discreet on the street. The area is flush with them thought because there are many street prostitutes. Wherever there is prostitution there are drugs, and the more expensive the prostitute the more expensive her drug of choice. At least that's what my cop friend tells me. I was well into my 20s before I saw a street hooker but now I see 3-4 a day.
At least I can get the best garlic crab and rib sandwiches around here.