Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Guest Spot by Josh Nance: "That's what real gunfire sounds like? Training Day sucks!"

After my brother and I (mostly my brother) started this blog, it quickly became apparent that our grievances with our respective cities were pretty tame. While we hope those stories are at least semi-amusing, let's face it, stalker Mary Kay agents and the hazards of river kayaking are low on actual danger in the traditional sense. I think we're grateful for that. However, there are people in our urban circles who do brave life-threatening activity on a routine basis. Our first City Dangers guest spot is courtesy of Josh Nance, a Chicagoan who lives in an area of town quaintly named, "The Devil's Rectangle". ...

A few weeks ago two gang members were shot outside my building. One was shot twice in the legs. The other was shot in the chest and died immediately. I heard the whole exchange and watched the man bleed out from my seventh story window. A police officer appeared on foot within minutes along with at least five police cruisers, a fire truck and an ambulance. The gangbangers' attitude towards anyone authoritative is obvious and tired, which is why I was so astonished to see their cooperation with the police once they arrived. The ones that hadn't been shot directed the officers and EMTs to the man with the chest wound first while the other victim sat patiently nearby. 

And I mean patiently. He didn't say a word as he lay there next to, presumably, his friend, and watched him die, waiting his turn to be looked at. But this cooperation ended instantly. The second the police asked them what they saw and which direction the shooter headed, the kids fell silent.

That these gang members could so unconvincingly lie to the cops as their friend dies just a few feet away only reaffirms their staunch code of ethics in these neighborhood gang wars. Which I don't think is going to end anytime soon. They could have told the cops who it was and which way they fled and maybe they would've caught them. But instead they kept quiet. They don't need help. They will take care of it themselves and retaliate. The people these gang members look to when one of their own gets shot are the same ones they thumb their noses at once the questioning begins. Watching that exchange is what spooked me the most. Not that it happened at 4:30 in the afternoon.

When I was looking for apartments earlier this summer I was aware of Uptown [Chicago] and what it had to offer. I knew what I was getting myself into once I chose it. I lived in Roscoe Village 'before it became cool'; I did Wrigleyville just to say that I did; and I went to Ravenswood which is 'slightly off the beaten path but still very hip.'  I never decided, "Hey! Let's do Uptown so I can say that I went slummin' too!" No, I knew what I wanted and the best apartment that I wanted happened to be in Uptown. I could already picture myself telling my friends my new address, to which they would quickly Google map in their heads and reply, "Ewwwww, Uptown."  I knew having company over would be a rare treat, so why get cable? LOST is done. Just give me the internet, Comcast! I'll be fine! But none of that stuff really mattered because I felt that if this is the place I wanted, which it was, then this is where I needed to be.

June was bullet-free and as a way of convincing myself that perhaps this neighborhood wasn't as bad as everyone claimed, I'd say ignorant things like:

"I watched Training Day last night and a few times I muted the movie just to make sure the gunfire really was coming from Denzel.  It was." 

"Rock Band: Three 6 Mafia finally came in the mail and after blasting it for hours the neighbors finally came and introduced themselves." 

Then late at night just after the Fourth of July I heard some loud popping sounds that I dismissed as tardy fireworks.  A friend told me about this neighborhood blog the next day so I started checking it out. The next night I heard the same loud pops right outside my window. Still very naive, I thought "Can't these kids just save the fireworks till next year?" Sure enough, the next morning the local blog posts something about shots fired on my street, the eastern street of what the locals like to call "The Devil's Rectangle." While I don't remember the ad mentioning anything about Lucifer when I checked this place out, I couldn't help but think "That's what real gunfire sounds like? Training Day sucks!" The gunfire became frequent in the coming weeks, mostly late at night. Policemen comment on the blog saying things about a gang war going on and that this gang doesn't go east of here, and this gang doesn't go south of here, and if they do, it means trouble. But I simply do not know who is who.

So the day the two men were shot I was relaxing before heading to my softball game when I heard those all too familiar popping noises. Initially, I sat there, until I realized it was Wednesday and the sun was still out. I shot up and looked outside the window. The first thing I saw, which, under normal circumstances, would be absolutely hysterical, was a woman doing this. Well, not exactly.  She still traveled at that speed, only she was carrying the stroller. Picture that, if you will. Now, my utter disdain for strollers, specifically stroller etiquette, runs deep. That's a whole other story in itself. Yet as I'm seeing this I couldn't help but think "Wow. You think you'd grab the kid and ditch that stroller." Looking back, I think she made the right move. They don't just give out strollers these days.

The funny left almost as quickly as it came when I looked down and saw the two men lying there. Once the cops showed up I thought that the only thing I could do from where was at was film the aftermath.  I couldn't tell myself why I should be doing this.  I simply wasn't prepared to watch some guy die. I've never seen that up close.  I couldn't just watch it.  After a while the street was taped off.  No one gets in.  I thought I could get out.  I walked out with baseball bat in hand ready to walk to the park and let this sink in.  The police approached me immediately demanding to know how the hell I got in here.  I embarrassingly told them I live on this strip and I need to leave.  The officer gave me this look that reminded me of all the disappointing looks I got from my parents growing up. I gave him that "I know, I know" look back at him. It must've worked, because he let me under the crime scene tape and on my way.

The vigil was held two nights later right outside my building, which drew about a hundred or so very distraught, very hostile mourners. A huge fight broke out resulting in twice as many police officers as there were two days earlier. The next night was a vigil for, as the blog called it, 'everyone else.' This included a very different kind of crowd and they weren't mourning the victim. Rather, they were mourning the complete loss of safety in the neighborhood.  I made sure not to be home for this one as I felt it a disgusting thing to be near. While I find it awful that the people the night before were trying to martyr a convicted felon and drug dealer, who left behind a young daughter, I believe the second vigil was an absolute slap in the face to that man's mother, that man's little girl. What a tacky way for the community to say, "See what's going on here? What's it going to take?"

It's been a few weeks now and the gunfire can still be heard every few days. I came home late a few nights ago and hadn't even taken my shoes off before I heard shots right outside my building. The next night I got home around the same time with about ten gang members hanging out by my gate and I thought "Here we go. Well, it's been a wild ride, iPod. Thank you."

I'm trying to avoid words like 'perspective' and 'surreal' that have been beaten to death in stories like these. I don't know if I'm scared, but I know I'm not moving. Is this a life changing thing? If I know my life could be in danger at any moment then why am I doing anything other than what I want to do?

2 comments:

  1. Couldn't think of a better guest post! Nice work Josh.

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  2. excellent writing...and also terrifying! I'm impressed that you are willing to stick with the neighborhood.

    Makes me super-embarrassed that i spent so much time on the coffeehouse cat post.

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