by Heineken » Mon 24 Oct 2005, 13:45:41
$this->bbcode_second_pass_quote('karina', 'H')eineken, you are absolutely correct. My friend, who lives in an apartment on the north side of U street and half a block east from 16th street, was almost broken in half a year ago while he was sleeping at 5 o'clock AM. Another friend owns a house in the same neighborhood. The house next to his house was broken in three years ago and three people living in the house were stabbed to death. Half a year ago while my friends were drinking in a bar in the neighborhood, they saw somebody stabbing a guy in front of them. I myself witnessed shootings in Adams Morgan twice.
Sorry, but not surprised, to hear these tales, karina. I myself had a fascinating experience once at Hains Point (a tongue of parkland extending out into the Potomac and ringed by a roadway), riding my bicycle. A car filled with thugs sideswiped me. I was so enraged that I took after them. When I met up with them they had stopped their car in a parking area and were taking out a picnic hamper. As I rode by, I kicked one of them and called them cowards (an insane act, I readily admit, but that's what testosterone and anger can do to a young man). The guy looked at his buddies, who were all the size of refrigerators, in disbelief and said, "That mu'fukker
kicked me!" As I rode away I could see them getting back into their car.
The next hour was like something out of a movie. It's a long, confusing story, but basically they chased me all over the Hains Point area. They were faster than I, of course, but I was more maneuverable and could go places and do things they couldn't, like ride on the golf course and drive against traffic (I was nearly killed multiple times doing the latter---I can still hear the horns blaring). At one point I seriously considered abandoning my bike and attempting to swim across the Potomac, which is at least a mile across at that place. The climax came when I approached a roadblock they had set up. After circling the whole way around the island, they had stopped their car in the middle of the two-lane, one-way road and the four of them were lined up across it, brandishing chains and tire irons. I was a very powerful cyclist at that time and was able to generate enough speed (and luck) to smash through them without getting stopped. A tire iron did hit my rear wheel and damaged some spokes, but I was still able to ride. Finally I hid in some bushes, and they headed off in the wrong direction and I escaped back over the bridge to "mainland" DC. Had they caught me, the Post the next day would have carried a story about my murder.
Man, you talk about living! That was the most exciting hour of my life.
I had a lot of other dangerous adventures in DC, often involving conflicts between my bicycle and belligerant drivers.