Here’s hoping that no helicopter comes flying around my neighborhood in oh, say, the next hour or so. I could do without the whirring sound of chopper blades. And without peeking out the window to see the thing flying low with a giant search light glaring down into my neighborhood. And flying in circles. And neighbors shouting and scurrying through the streets to their cars. I could do without all this because I had the thrill of experiencing it all last night already.
I was stuck there in bed, wondering vaguely if flashing lights would appear, cops would surround the place, and I would be arrested for something I obviously didn’t do, man. And yet I’d still feel guilty about it, because that’s what happens to you when you’re half asleep already and, despite working to overcome guilty feelings that have no basis, it’s so ingrained in you that it surfaces and mocks you and your now-messy hairdo.
And just now, as I was typing this, I heard again the rumbling sound of a helicopter overhead. “Fly away from me, bitch!” was what came to mind to say. So I did. And, mercifully, it listened to me. And now, iTunes decided to put in its two cents and play Pink Floyd’s The Happiest Days of Our Lives. You know. The one that starts out with helicopter blades whirring. Seems I can’t win after all. Dammit.
ah yes… one of the things I miss most about living in Long Beach (not!) In our neighborhood, that happened a few times a week. When the guy in the end apartment shot the guy across the alleyway, not only did we have the helicopters, but we had a whole swat team come and clean out our complex. We were ushered out by cops in bullet proof vests in a line carrying shields while they broke into the end apartment with tear gas and a “searcher robot”.
Our neighborhood in LA county was so notorious, that when the kids came to Albuquerque and they heard a car backfire on the Tramway, they hit the floor without even thinking about it.
Around here, we get the MedLife choppers flying overhead at all hours of the day. And night. Not very scary, unless you try imagining what might be happening inside up there.