A dispatch from the 22nd Street Crossroads. The incident took place around 1 p.m.today.
I just watched Local Cellar, which is across the street from my apartment, get robbed.
I was noodling around in my room, when I heard a woman say “Hey, dude- what the fuck?” I looked out my window and saw man walk briskly out of the store.
The indignant clerk ran right after him, clutching her cell phone.
“Hey!” she yelled, at the man, who was no more than five steps ahead of her.
The man glanced over his shoulder and broke into a slow lope.
She punched a number into her cellphone.”There’s been a robbery,” she said. “2801 at 22nd and Florida.”
Two weeks earlier, I’d been angry with her. She’d been playing music in the store a a high volume. I called her and told her to turn the music down in the store. “Fine,” she’d said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.
I waited til she got off the phone and then yelled “Hey, are you okay?”
“Oh, my god! Did you see that?” she called back.
“Yes! Are you okay?” I replied.
She trotted across the street and stood under my window.
“I’m fine,” she said. “My name’s Kristin. Thanks for noticing what happened!”
“I notice everything,” I said.
All that was lost? A $41 bottle of Refined gin.
I guess you miss the “good” old days when Jefferson Market attracted drug dealers and creepy dudes at all hours uh?
Glad to have you as a neighbor.. not!.