Hello Florida, guess what? I moved.

Hello humidity and balmy air at night.
Hello ocean breezes from just out of sight.
Hello crazy, ugly bugs that make me want to scream (I refrain).
Hello transplant New Yorkers and great slices of cheese! (I can't complain.)

Farewell kimchi and my favorite Korean place.
Farewell peachy California sunsets that used to caress my face.
Farewell the good friends I found while I was there.
Farewell, Adieu, I hope you know I care.

A new chapter quickly opens,
good things come; life beacons.
Fond memories tucked away,
I hold them close, and live life today.

-Melissa

p.s. When I set the release date for Ancestor's Call (the 2nd book in The Chronicles of Loresse) I hadn't planned to move to Florida this Spring, so unfortunately, the book release for Ancestor's Call has been shifted to sometime this Summer, 2014.  So sorry to make you wait!

copyright - Melissa Bitter, All Rights Reserved

I'm Taking A Sabbatical, from nyc

Spawning from my plans to fly west for the winter (bird-like of course) to avoid the upcoming brutal winter. (We didn't have a winter last year, so logic tells us we'll get two this year. As of 3/6/09 this assumption has been 189.2% correct.) I've decided to move to California.

Yes, I know your hearts are breaking (I hear them cracking as I type). But don't weep too long, I'll most likely be back. Besides grieving can be a healthy process.

I'm going to miss documenting street life springing forth from the City's boroughs, the enormous amount of shoes that I won't be wearing out on the City's sidewalks, and the my favorite restaurants, sites, and friends.

The City is always shifting. Cycling. Renewing. Hopefully, one day I'll be back, adding to the mix. Only time will tell.

And so, the West Coast calls and I'm off.

Wish me luck.
-Bitter
(written December 12, 2008)

At Long Last, my nyc experience is complete

I've battled roaches, and won.

I've fought with mice, and lost, then won, only to lose again.

I've melted into a puddle on the sidewalk in the middle of the summer when it's 95 outside and 92% humidity.

I've frozen my a$$ off in winter.

I've experienced an epic snowstorm.

I've navigated the City and subway on crutches.

I've seen the marathon, several parades (Thanksgiving, St. Patrick's, Mermaid, Tartan, etc.), watched the tree lighting at Rock Center, seen the ball drop at Times Square, dancing at Lincoln Square and the Winter Festival.

I've been to holiday markets, and green farmers markets.

I've listened to pipes rattle, squeal, hiss, ding, spit, and howl when the heat comes on in the winter.

I've fallen asleep to the hum of air conditioners on a summer night, only to be awoken later when people at the sports club a block away cheer at the latest touchdown.

I've watched the fireworks from the FDR.

I've been trapped in an elevator. (Not for very long, but still, it counts.)

I've awoken early in the morning to a woman screaming from the middle of the street, "Call the police, call the police, call the police."

So I did. (The domestic dispute, eventually ended. She was fine.)

I've seen the garbage and construction crews work the tunnels in the subway, and have wondered and read a book about Mole People.

I've been stuck on a subway and waited hours for the A train late at night.

I've learned to sleep through sirens of all sorts unless the stop at my building.

I've attended protests, seen the Central Park Skate Dancers, and been harassed by rent-a-cops for taking pictures.

I've walked past accidents where a bus and a semi-truck have run over people, and seen a body covered with a sheet.

I've had a neighbor in the apartment across from mine, die, then decompose in his apartment for three days. In the summer.

His relatives succeeded in dripping his oozing decomposing bodily fluids along the hallway into the elevator, then back along the hallway and down three flights of steps, then across the lobby as they removed the mattress from said apartment.

I've lived on a fourth floor walk-up and hauled my laundry, down the stairs, around the corner, past fancy restaurants and café's a couple of blocks away to the Laundromat.

I've arrived home late at night to find Amsterdam Ave blocked off at 79th street and filled with fire trucks and ambulances, only to discover that said fire trucks were responding to a now gutted building that just so happened to be right next to mine.

I've peered out my window and looked at the shattered windows and blackened rooms across the narrow chasm between buildings, and slept in a room that smelled like smoke for days, with a broken front door (thanks firemen, No, REALLY! Thank you!) because I had no place else to go.

I've walked from the very tip top of Manhattan to the other tip (Inwood to Battery Park) mostly.

And yet, until tonight my NYC experience wasn't complete.

You see it all started with a leak.

Or should I say drip.

Yes, drip. Or several or hundreds of them. And bulging bubbles of paint that hung from my bathroom ceiling over my sink.

Resulting in me vacating the medicine cabinet and moving all my skin and hair care products into the hallway.

And a couple of calls to my Super. (He lives upstairs from me.)

Tonight when I arrived home from a night out on the town, (book browsing, dinner @ Whole Foods, and the movies (Twilight, it half-way sucked)) I found disaster.

The only thing that remains of half my bathroom ceiling are the original lathe (as in lathe and plaster) slats from 1920.

Oh, and creepy dark crevices that make me scared that roaches will begin to invade again, or that mice will drop between.

I'm just glad I had the foresight , or shall we say intuition, to close my bathroom door today when I left.

Oh, so happy that the resultant mounds of dirt, dust and plaster chunks were contained to the bathroom.

Although, I am saddened to know my hesitance in removing my trusty, fluffy, cozy bathroom rug led directly to its demise.

-Bitter

No, I didn't take a picture, I cleaned the mess up, sanitized, and disinfected quickly, since the facilities were needed immediately.

Excuse Me? . . .

I had to run to the bank today, so I stepped out during my lunch break. It’s fabulous outside, perfect Fall weather. Overcast, cool, but not windy and frigid. I walked past the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day balloons on 77th Street and continued on to Broadway dodging taxis, barricades, and construction areas. This part of town is nice to walk around, since there usually aren’t many tourists.

The bank didn’t take much of my time, so I thought I’d stop off at Fairway and grab a salad. I crossed the street, dodged through the pedestrian traffic and abruptly stopped when I caught sight of the swarm of people attempting to get inside. Um, perhaps the day before Thanksgiving wasn’t the best day to hop inside a grocery store to grab something to eat.

I stepped to the curb and looked across the street. Starbucks? Yeah, I guess they’d do.

I eyed the offerings in the deli section of Starbucks and decided to grab the Avocado Turkey sandwich on whole grain bread since I love avocado. (FYI-it wasn’t that great.)

I stepped to the counter and handed over the sandwich to the young girl standing behind the counter. “Anything else?” she asked.

On the spur of the moment I decided to get a drink, “A tall vanilla crème, no foam please.” I smiled.

“No foam. Whip?” She said back.

Whip? Oh, “Yes, whipped cream please.”

She punched a few things in on the screen in front of her, then held up a shiny red bag. “Are you interested in picking up a pound of our Christmas-“

“I don’t drink coffee.” I smiled politely, she looked at me like I had just grown another head. Yes I know I was in place that was built and marketed around coffee, but hello, I just ordered a cup of steamed milk. You’d think that if I liked coffee I would have ordered it.

“Does anyone in your family drink-“

“I’m single.” I was starting to feel like I was on the phone with my credit card company, you know, when they try to sell you all those security bells and whistles on your card for only $872/month.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” she said.

I couldn’t believe it. My Thanksgiving plans (or lack thereof) were none of her concern. My eyes swiveled between the number displayed on the register and the pointed eyes demanding an answer. $9.XX? Was that the right amount? I mumbled something about double checking the price wondering if she had charged me for a Grande, after a glance at plastic container I remembered the sandwich was $6.25. So yeah, the amount was about right. I handed over my debit card.

She swiped it, then leaned forward and asked pointedly, “So, do you have plans for Thanksgiving?” I just stood there, flabbergasted.

“Excuse me, but can I just have my receipt?” I pointed at my card and the paper she had clutched in her hand.

She shoved them forward. I said, “Thanks,” spun on my heel, and walked away.

I suppose you had to be there, but I was so taken back by her reaction to me not wanting to buy a stupid bag of Starbuck’s Christmas Coffee Grounds, that I was furious for about 15 minutes.

Fern (not her real name) thinks I should have leaned right back toward her and said, “Why yes, I do have plans. I’m working at the soup kitchen, would you like to donate several bags?” (Fern works at the soup kitchen all the time, and so the quip came readily to her mind.)

The Starbuck cashier’s lack of tact coupled with the vibe that I got from her implying that it was not okay to be single is what set me over the edge. That she did it so vindictively and pushily left thinking, “Excuse me?”

-Bitter

FYI: I do have plans for Thanksgiving.

To: the biatch who sat next to me on the A train this morning

Dear biatch who sat next me during the insufferably long A train commute to work this morning,

I thought I would take a few moments out of my day to attempt to give you a few tips.

1) It's rude (and and considered disorderly conduct, see Section 1050.7, letter e) to play your music that loud on your iPod nano.

2) You're going to lose your hearing, sooner rather than later.

3) When I smiled and politely asked you to turn your music down,
you didn't have to be so incredibly rude while saying 'No'.

4) If you want to live to a ripe old age without having experienced some irate person shoving your iPod down/up/into one of your orifices, I politely suggest you never ride one of the New Jersey Transit buses out of Port Authority.

Hope you have a pleasant week and that you take my well wishes to heart as I'm particularly worried about your health.

Kind regards,
Bitter

Dare to Dream, Paul Potts

It's things like this that give me hope to keep dreaming.

What about you?

Here's Paul Potts from Britain's Got Talent...

An Ass, in nyc

So there I was, minding my own business, finishing up the last bites of a slice of ultra thin crust pineapple and ham pizza when I looked up and saw a mule pulling a small wagon down Isham Street toward Inwood Hill Park.

Yes I was surprised, we don’t see large four legged animals up in my neck of the woods. Dogs, yes. Mules, no!

So I did what any self-respecting blogger would do, I hot-footed it home to grab my camera. (Perhaps I should start carrying a small point & shoot with me at all times. Of course that would necessitate me buying a point & shoot….)

Fortunately they stopped for a brief moment in the park, and I snagged this shot. Quite profound wouldn’t you say? The mule gazing off into the urban distance.



The mule & owners ended up spending the night at the Van Cortland Park stables in The Bronx.

It turns out that the couple (Bud & Kenny) are planning to travel the world on foot. You can read about their travels, gawk at their solar powered trailer, or donate to support their journey at http://www.usonfoot.com/.

Anyway, it’s just not something you see every day on the streets of New York.

-Bitter

Linkage, to new york portraits

I'm on the run today and won't have time to blog later, so I'm sending you over to fellow NYC Blogger, Kitty @ New York Portraits.

Her write-up reminds me of my first three months in The City, where I lived on a couch in the front room/living room/kitchen. And my subsequent apartment that had a kitchen just as she describes.

I am now the proud owner of a fairly long/skinny kitchen, and I felt immediate kinship with the developer she mentioned. I ended up taking apart some metal IKEA racks and rebuilding it with shelves and a counter top. It's pretty ghetto, if I ever get brave enough, I'll post a picture so you can see it. ;)

How the Other Half Lives, by Kitty @ New York Portraits

-Bitter

The Phone Jack in My Apartment, not included

Problem solved!, originally uploaded by HOARY HEAD.

Due to the fact that none of my neighbors with unsecured wifi decided to be online last night, this post comes to you a little later than planned.

As you might have guessed from the paragraph above, I don’t have internet service at home. And yes, I’ve been one of those people, using the open Wifi connections from my nice neighbors, whether they’re in my building or the one across the street, to check my email and blog an occasional post from home. Hey, they’re either leaving it open on purpose to share, or don’t know enough to password protect it. I always assume it’s the former, because in this day and age, gheesh, securing your networks are one of those no brainer types of things.

However, I finally reached the point where I need a constant, stable, connection that runs faster than 11 kbps. Yes, you read that right. 11.

You see, I have grand plans for my site, and lots of cool stuff to design, upload, and give away for free. But it requires a connection of my own.

So like any self-respecting paper-pusher, I researched my options for the cheapest connection possible. Yes, I even looked up free-wifi spots in the City. But unfortunately, most of them are in mid-town and below. And no, I don’t want to haul my laptop out 100+ blocks at 11:00 pm to check my email or blog a new post. Let alone, the thought of me and my 20” iMac G5 sitting on a bench in Bryant Park. Can you picture it? I thought not.

I looked at cable options, they want you to buy the TV, phone, and internet combo for $100/month. Um, no thanks. I haven’t used a land line as my primary phone since 2002. And haven’t plugged a phone in the wall since 2004. Besides, I don’t need cable tv. As an aspiring author, the time suck that happens when I sit in front of that beautiful glowing screen is impressive. Whole weeks disappear at a time, unaccounted for. I think it’s a conspiracy.

So, no. No TV, no need for a land line, so I don’t need my internet provider to be cable.

And then I found Verizon. If I signed up online, I could get DSL in my apartment for $25/month without local phone service. It was perfect, sign me up, I want it now.

I opted for the free DSL router. If I ever decide to get wifi, I’ll invest in a wireless router later. (And yes I’ll share, and yes I’ll block people that hog my bandwidth, and yes I’ll permanently block people who watch porn over my network. It’s my bandwidth, I’ll share, but only a little. The phone company won’t like me, but tough.)

I scoffed at the $199 option to have a phone tech come to my apartment to check my lines, and run a line to wherever I wanted my computer. Being pretty handy, I decided that if I wanted my computer connection in a different room, then I’d just buy a 25 foot phone cable and run it there myself. So I clicked, no thanks.

A warning box popped up. Was I sure that I didn’t want someone to come? And second, was I sure that I had a phone jack?

I know where the cable wires run in my apartment. I’ve seen them in my bedroom, and how they run through my kitchen to the front room. So I knew the phone line couldn’t be too far away.

I clicked yes I’m sure. And another prompt come up announcing that if I changed my mind and had a tech come to my place, a fee would be assessed later.

I laughed, clicked okay, and continued my merry way through the rest of the contract.

I should have known better.

As a writer, couldn’t I have seen the foreshadowing? Why the multiple notices and offers to come check the phone line in my apartment? Why the exorbitant charge?

But now I know. Not having a phone jack in your NYC apartment must be a lot more common that I thought.

When I saw Spiderman 3 a few weeks ago, I thought it was quaint when Peter Parker called Mary Jane from the payphone in his hallway. I remember thinking, are there really places still like that?

No, my apartment isn’t as bad as Peter’s. It is at least two times better, the layered paint is there, the bowing lathe and plaster walls, the smells of old building, but it’s larger, my door opens quite easily, and with the two dead bolts I installed myself, quite safe. (Yes they work.)

But both Peter and I have no phone. I searched high and low, along baseboards, and through cupboards. In the back of my mind I knew it must be there, that I’d find it eventually. How could I have missed something so simple? Maybe it’s behind my bed, and even though I’ve already moved the bookcase in my front room, I feel the urge move it again.

How is it I wonder that an apartment could make it to 2007, and antiquated as they are now, still not have a phone line installed? I think the line should have been installed in the 50’s at least. Right?

So a few NYC rental questions for you all you ‘in the know’ out there. If there is no phone jack in my apartment, is it legal? Is my landlord required to have one installed? And I suppose more to the point, who should pay for it? Me or my landlord.

On a side note, I saw my Super this morning on my way to work. I asked him in passing, “If I were to have a phone jack in my apartment, where would it be?” He suggested the front hall closet, and said he would check with the management. The hall closet. I never would have thought about that.

Tonight, when I get home, I’ll be going through all my closets. Particularly the one in the entry way, the one I haven’t opened since I sealed it shut.

Why did I seal it shut? Well, because it sucks all the smoke from the inscent burning lover that lives below me and sends it up to mine. Sans scent, aka smoke only.

And why does my super not know where the phone lines are? Well, I think he only uses a cell phone like me.

Welcome to the 21st Century, caught between the old and the new, moving forward one jerky step at a time, while trying to save a buck.

-Bitter

Update 6/28/07: I found a phone jack in my front hallway, now I just need to see if it works. Cross your fingers for me.

The Race Across the Sky, and how i missed it

With the Space Shuttle Atlantis and the International Space Station flying across the sky in mind, I grabbed my camera and tripod and hoofed it over to the Hudson River to take pictures of the sunset and get ready for the fly-by.

People were fishing, others were staring off down the river idling the night away. Kids dressed in their little league outfits played ball on a field just a stone's throw away, and off in the distance a car stereo played salsa music.

I watched fishermen impale worms on ugly metal hooks then cast their lines far out into the river, weighted by diamond shaped blobs of lead, with murmurs of catfish. Bells anchored to the end of their poles tinkled every now and then when some fish decided to take a nibble, but nothing was reeled in while I watched. And though I don’t speak Spanish, I now understand that the look ‘My fish got away!’ is universal.

I set-up my tripod and started taking pictures of the sunset and its reflection across the water, then as the colors faded, I turned my camera south, toward the George Washington Bridge, happy that the bridge lights were on and that there was still a bit of color on the horizon.

Long after the sun had set and the soft yellows had begun to turn into the muted grays of night, a single engine prop plane flew up the river. With one of its lights out, it looked oddly asymmetrical as it flew overhead. It wings wobbled back and forth as it made a U-turn over the river and headed back to the Jersey shore and lower Manhattan.

The guy next to me spoke the first and almost the only English I heard that night. “That’s illegal you know.” The Spanish accent fit with the music quietly drifting over the cove.

“What?” I said.

“They’re not allowed to turn right here, they’re supposed to fly further up the river.” He turned to point north, up the Hudson to where the sky had dimmed to dusky purple and the river narrowed.

I nodded my head and said, “Oh.”

“Did you see how it was wobbling in the sky?”

“Yeah, maybe he was saying hello to someone.”

He looked at me like I was crazy and shook his head.

I explained. “My grandpa was a pilot, he used to wiggle his wings when he flew over his house to say hello.” We talked a little more, but I could tell he was unconvinced by my story. I had to admit I agreed with him. In hindsight, it was probably some inexperienced pilot bending the rules to hurry and land his plane before full dark.

By this time, I had taken roughly three hundred shots of the bridge, varying the length of time for each exposure, while hoping I would stumble upon the best one for the moment. Lacking technical experience, I had covered my bases by taking multiple shots with different exposures throughout the evening. Once I review the photos, and discard the ones that don’t work, I’ll learn what works best.

About forty minutes after the sun had set and the last bit of yellow and orange had disappeared from the horizon, I turned my camera to face north-west eyes strained and watching. The lap of water against wooden beams and the shore soothed as I waited for two lights to appear that would stream across the sky like shooting stars.

Every thirty seconds or so, I would check the time on my cell phone, five minutes to go until 9:20. I took a couple pictures of the moon and set my camera to manual focus.

I checked my phone again. It was only 9:16.

I attempted to take a shot pointing upriver, framing the river, and a person leaning against a railing looking over to the cliffs across the river. It most likely didn’t turn out. I checked the time again, 9:17.

It was a long five minutes.

9:20 finally arrived, and I renewed my watching. I looked in the direction of where the sun had set, west north-west. And watched, and watched, and waited, and nothing appeared.

Just about the time I gave up, a man nearby pointed to the sky in the east. His Russian accent lay heavy on his words, but I understood his meaning completely. I followed his pointing finger and found the space shuttle Atlantis and International Space Station streaking across the sky at a fast clip. I held my fist to the sky, they really were a fist width apart, a thrill of excitement raced through me.

And then reality hit, I’d missed my photo op and the entire arc across the sky. I should have been looking more to the north. I hurriedly pivoted my camera around and snapped three shots just before they hit the tree line. Of the three, one worked out.

For those of you who missed it. Here you go.



Shortly thereafter, I packed up my tripod and schlepped my stuff home. Happy that at least I’d spent a pleasant evening near the water, gotten to see what I’d waited for, and managed to get a shot of the moment. Not the best shot, nor the one I’d planned, but a shot none-the-less.

-Bitter

Calling all Sky Watchers, thats you bub

Credit Astronaut photograph STS110-717-17 was taken with a 35 mm film camera and is provided by the Earth Sciences and Image Analysis Laboratory at Johnson Space Center. Additional images taken by astronauts and cosmonauts can be viewed at the NASA-JSC Gateway to Astronaut Photography of Earth.

******

From Neil deGrasse Tyson, Department of Astrophysics & Director, Hayden Planetarium at the American Museum of Natural History, comes this little bit of news. "Hayden Associate and intrepid sky watcher Joe Rao" has alerted him that the space shuttle will be visible to people in NY, NJ and CT tonight. All you star-gazers out there, plan to stay out late and avoid Times Square.

Wednesday, 20 June 2007
TONIGHT: TWO FOR THE SHOW!
As many of you may be aware, during the past week the Space Shuttle Atlantis has been docked to the International Space Station (ISS). Yesterday, at 10:42 a.m. EDT, Atlantis undocked from the ISS and pulled slowly away. Atlantis will still remain relatively close by to the ISS (within 46 miles) through the remainder of its mission, which is scheduled to come to an end tomorrow afternoon.

Periodically, when the ISS (or other, smaller artificial satellites) move across the sky within a couple of hours of sunrise or sunset, they will appear to shine by virtue of reflected sunlight off of their metallic skin or solar panels. This gives the appearence of a "star" moving with a steady speed across the twilight sky.

When the ISS makes its scheduled pass over the Tri-State region this evening, however, we'll be getting a view of two space vehicles for the price of one! Instead of the usual view of one large "moving star," we'll be looking at two: the ISS and the Atlantis Shuttle! The ISS will actually appear to "lead" Atlantis across the sky . . . but since it is not as big as the ISS, Atlantis will appear a little smaller in size and brightness. They'll be separated by about 10-degrees -- roughly the width of your clenched fist held at arm's length.

So where and when should you look? Get outside this evening by 9:15 p.m. Get your eyes adjusted to the night sky. Then, start concentrating on the northwest part of the sky. Over toward the west you'll see the brilliant planet Venus (unmistakable) and above and to its left, the fainter planet Saturn. Less than an hour earlier, the Sun set will have in the west-northwest. So that's the general area of the sky to look.

Atlantis and the ISS will first appear at, or shortly after 9:20 p.m., moving up and toward the right; two bright "stars" moving with a steady speed across the sky. The ISS should appear very bright with a yellowish hue; Atlantis will seem pure white. By 9:22 they'll be reaching their highest point, more than halfway up from the horizon to the overhead point in the north-northeast. Around 9:23 they'll be descending, but should pass close to Vega, a bright bluish-white star. By 9:24 they will have dropped low to the east-southeast horizon, when they'll suddenly fade out . . . as they pass into the Earth's dark shadow.

Both space vehicles will be moving along a track from Watertown, NY down to Cape Cod, allowing us to see them from our area. Spread the word and tell your friends and neighbors about this unusual sight.
-- Joe Rao

The Day I Stopped a Gang War, no, they didn't have knives...or guns

Yesterday afternoon when I went outside to make a quick personal phone call, I got to stop a gang war.

Well, not really, but I had you going for a second there didn't I? *insert chuckle*

Well I did stop something. It wasn’t a gang war per se, but it was about to become a nasty fight (there were about thirty or so young men egging each other on). This is how it happened.

Yesterday afternoon I stepped out of the office to call my Brother-in-Law Nick because my blog was experiencing glitches from the work I'd done the night before. He fixed the problem, (brilliant computer geek that he is) so now in order to get to my blog, you can type i-m-bitter.com into your browser and it will bring you right here. Snazzy huh!

So here I am, minding my own business, walking away from the doors and building construction heading toward the spot where I wanted to make my call when I saw them. About thirty young men, ages twelve to sixteen, milling around the sidewalk. I didn't think much of it, so I whipped out my phone and looked for a place to stand.

I scanned the group wondering if they'd be too loud for me to hear my Brother-in-Law Nick, when I realized that all might not be well on that particular smog choked, overcast, construction dust laden bit of NYC sidewalk. The groups weren't milling, but circling. Then I became aware that there were two protagonists with groups forming around each one. Heckling came from both sides, egging each other on. Oh dear.

All I could only think two things. The first, this isn't happening, they aren't really going to fight. And second, as the only adult standing around, (I work near the park, and had used a side entrance to the building) I couldn't let it happen. Besides can you imagine the headlines? Young boys fight, end up in hospital as "Fill in the Blank" Employee stands idly by, watching, or turns her back, or something...I don't know but it would have been bad I'm sure.

So here I am wading into the fray as soon as the preliminary shoves are over, trying to shout over the din and calm the testosterone induced adrenaline surges. All I could think to yell was "Do I need to call the "Company" Security Guards? Over and over again. One of the would-be fighters glanced down at the Company ID badge I held in my hand and backed off immediately, the intense desire in him to beat the crap out of the other kid dampened. Some small corner of my brain recognized this, so I swung it with vigor at the rest, card in one hand (you know, to look official) and cell phone in the other.

The crowd started to break up, but it took a little while to calm down the other half of the crowd. I vaguely remember gently rubbing the arm of one young man and saying "Settle down, settle down." He was trying to incite the crowd to riot again.

I don't know what I was thinking to have waded into the middle of that crowd, must have been the "I can't let this happen" part of me. In the end it all worked out, the crowd dispersed. Half of it went one way, the other headed off in the opposite direction. Disaster averted.

But there was a moment there when I was in the middle, with my back to the half of the gang I had mostly calmed down when I thought. "Um, this probably isn't a good idea. What If I get jumped from behind?" I suppose it would have been okay eventually....The building has security cameras, they'd eventually see me getting beat up...and later after I'd calmed the boys down, two guys I know from IT walked by. I'm sure they would've played Good Samaritan and scraped me off the pavement.

Just after the IT guys passed by, I finally called my Brother-in-Law Nick. Unfortunately, he had to listen to gibberish for about 15 seconds since my ability to form coherent sentences had fled, by then, the shakes had set in.

So there you have it. The story of how I stopped a gang war. Well it was a large group of boys, and they were about to fight. If that isn't a gang war I don't know what is, I swear it was just like West Side Story. Except there wasn't any singing and dancing, and it was definitely a lot scarier.