we aren't the first garage off the entrance to the alley, but we are the first lighted garage. there is a super-bright street light illuminating our ramshackle pink-and-white carport just across from an elementary school, bestowing us with the dubious honor of having the most cherry [or is that cherriest?] garage for gangbangers to mark their territory. as i backed out from the garage in the red sled and shut the door, the latest oeuvre d'art of some local clique called the m.a.n.i.a.c.s scrolled before my eyes. it was full of other gang jargon, including a heart with a swastika and your typical forklike symbols used by subsets of "people", one of the two factions of chicago gangs.
i can hear the tsk-tsking from my suburbanite readers now. no worries: the best part is that all i need to do is tap 311 on my celly and in a day or so, i will have a freshly painted garage door. yes, it's my kinda town.
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