Filmmaker - Musician - Photographer

Oh yeah....Jersey City

Last night I got home at a little after midnight. I hadn't eaten and I'm far to lazy to cook, let alone go to the grocery store, so I decided to get some pizza from the parlor two blocks from my house. Sometimes I forget that it's not a good idea to walk around my neighborhood after a late hour. I was reminded last night.

As soon as I walked out of my front door in route to the late night pizza spot, I spotted two shifty looking gentlemen across the street who were walking in the same direction. (NOTE: People look shifty for no reason in Jersey City Heights.) They were talking loudly and laughing until they saw me and began looking EXTRA shifty. I ignored it at first and just assumed I was being paranoid, that is, until they started whispering and pointing at me. Oh boy.

Like I said, they were walking parallel to me on the other end of the street to my left. I didn't tense up or anything, but I was mentally preparing to "engage" with the two gentlemen in case they were plotting some sort of attack. Just then, I heard a loud voice coming from my right.


The guys on to my left stopped whispering and everything got quiet until we heard the yelling again, "FLAT LINE! FLAT LINE, MU'FAKKA!!!! FLAT LINE! FLAT LINE!"

Seconds later me and the two gentlemen, still parallel, passed by a street corner and the source of the yelling could be seen. A boy, about 15 years old, marching (not walking....marching) down the street, clearly angry about something that had happened seconds before. Apparently, yelling death threats to the world was his therapy.

I did something that I have never done before when encountering shifty individuals on the street. I walked faster. Significantly faster. Almost to a gallop. The guys who were walking parallel to me were no longer parallel. They were gone. I don't know if they had turned around or had turned down some other block, but I know that they were gone. They were the smart ones.

The rational thing to do would be to turn my ass around and go back home. My hunger would not let me think rationally. I needed pizza and by golly I was going to get it. I kept walking. The boy kept yelling. I got it in my mind that he was just rapping lyrics to a song, but as he got closer to me I could see that he was not wearing headphones and the cadence at which he blurted the words was not reminiscent of any Junior Mafia track I had ever heard. No. This guy was just crazy.

I went into the pizza spot and prayed that this lunatic was not as hungry as I was for pizza. He wasn't. By the time I got my pizza and headed back on my way home it was 12:32am. The streets were empty and dark and my good friend, "Flat line", was not to be seen or heard. I thought all oddity's were at rest for the evening, but then I passed by a mother and daughter. The mother looked to be in her mid 30's the daughter no older than 10. The little girl had a fresh black eye and tears streaming down her face, having been punched no more than a few minutes before.

Jersey City Heights, ladies and gentlemen.