In The Ghetto...

Wusup bitches!

Having lived in or near the Washington, DC area for about 12 years now, I've become quite aware of where not to go in the city at night - namely, New York Avenue and the SE/Anacostia area. Matter of fact, I wouldn't even go into Anacostia during the day if I could help it.

For those outside this area, SE/Anacostia is near where they are building the new Nationals baseball stadium, which should ultimately lead to a gentrification/cleaning up of the area to make it more tourist/$$$ friendly. I remember visiting the Chinatown area of DC back in the early 90's, and being absolutely terrified for my life the entire time. It was a really rough area, with drug deals openly going down in broad daylight as the police watched, uninterested. Now, thanks to the MCI/Verizon Center, Chinatown is one of the trendiest and safest areas in DC. Crazy.

Anyway, I've had two experiences, both accidental, in SE/Anacostia, both at nighttime. Both times involved thinking I was going somewhere else, and somehow finding myself deep in the poorly lit, highly dangerous ghetto.

The first time I had the pleasure of seeing the mean streets of DC a friend and I were heading up into DC to see Less Than Jake play at the 9:30 Club. I was 17 at the time, and this was my first time driving into DC. This was the early days of Mapquest, before they got at least some of the bugs worked out, and the directions were piss poor awful. My friend's little sister (who was about 14 or so) and her friend were in the backseat of my 1983 Toyota Tercel hatchback (I really had to fight off the ladies when I rolled up in that beauty...), and being big ska kids at the time, we were pretty stoked for the show. Mapquest glibly told us to take the exit off of 395 North that put us directly on Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd.

(Quick word of advice: MLK, Jr. was a great man, and did a lot of good in this country. Unfortunately America's cities seem to name their most dangerous streets after him. I'd stay off of them if I were you.)

As we stared, wide-eyed and trembling, at the scene around us, we realized we were in the ghetto. Like Dr. Dre Compton ghetto. Drug deals were going down around us, guns were being openly displayed, and four skinny white kids from the suburbs in a shitty hatchback stuck out like...well...four skinny white kids from the suburbs in a shitty hatchback. Unfortunately, we couldn't figure out how to get off of this road. It's like we had entered an urban trap, and were doomed to spend the rest of the night fighting for survival. I got my Gat ready...

...until we saw V Street! The 9:30 Club is on the corner of 9th and V Streets, and Mapquest turned to me as if to say, "I told you so..." I rolled my eyes, and turned up the street, where we were immediately greeted with a blinding police spotlight shined on my car. Naivety in tow, I pulled up next to the cop thinking, hey, he can give us directions, right?

The cop came up to my window, and I preempted the conversation by telling him that we were lost, and just trying to get to the 9:30 Club. He wrinkled his brow and asked for my ID. Not thinking anything of it, I complied, and he noted that Fredericksburg, VA (where this trip began) was a long way away from where we now were. I chuckled and agreed. He asked me to get out of the car (to give me directions??). At about this time I noticed that a second squad car had pulled up in back of my car, and I was completely blocked in. The cop in the other car had gotten out and was shining a flashlight into my vehicle, which I thought was strange. Still, though, I didn't think anything was that unusual. It was the ghetto after all, and they were surely only trying to protect us.

My cop started saying how strange it was that we would end up here, on this street of all places, since it was the largest narcotics zone in DC. Hmm, I thought, that is strange, but when am I getting my directions. Then, my cop busts out this gem:

"Do you have any marijuana or weapons in your vehicle?"

It was about this time that I noticed that the other cop had gotten my friend out of the car and had slammed him up against the Tercel, patting him up and down in a blatant violation of his rights. I told my cop that of course I don't have anything in my car. He responded by asking where we had picked up the two girls in the backseat, and began to imply that we were major narcotics dealers. This was starting to go south rather quickly.

My cop snatched our ID's and went back to his squad car to look up our obviously long and illustrious criminal histories, while my friend seethed on the curb. I was starting to get irritated, not least of which because the show was starting. When my cop came back, clearly aware that he had made a mistake with us, the other cop had been going through my car (without my permission, I might add) and found a cigar I had in there. He picked it up, and my cop snidely asked, "Oh, so what, are you a connoisseur?" I gave him a smart-ass response, and he gave our ID's back.

"OK, here's what I'm going to do for you guys," he started, "Right now we don't have enough evidence to bring you in, so I'm going to let you go this time. But if we see you in this area again, that will be evidence enough to prosecute!"

As we looked incredulously at each other, he continued.

"You know, this used to be the largest narcotics zone in DC, but we're cracking down now, so be sure to tell all your friends!"

At this, my friend busted out laughing. It was a pretty stupid thing to say, and the cop looked sheepishly away. He wrote out directions to the club for us, and we sped off. Needless to say, we didn't enjoy the concert all that much. It took a couple years for my anger at DC to subside enough for me to even go back into the city.

The second time I ended up in Anacostia was when I offered to give two people a ride whose car had broken down outside my gym in Arlington. They said their house was right up the road, and pointed in back of the gym. What they meant was, right up the interstate, and into Anacostia, at 9PM, on a hot summer night. Summer in DC is kind of a festival time for crime. Sometimes I really can be a moron. Luckily I escaped that situation unscathed as well, but it reminds me of what Dave Chappelle says, that it's worse to be brought to the ghetto when you're not expecting it.

Anyway, here's Chappelle's ghetto bit from his DC show on HBO a couple years ago. Enjoy!