So this is where I stop whistling Andy Griffiths and bring out the depressing Oboe. Since we have been here, there's this one piece of crap house that the entire neighbourhood knows is a crack house. Who owns it? Some dude in China who probably hasn't laid foot in Canada in ten years. Who lives in it? A pretty unattractive prostitute. Who visits her? Well a lot of people... and when I use the term people I'm actually being very kind and forgiving because these so called people are the assholes of the city. Literally, they shit and spit on our clean neighbourhoods with crime, drugs and prostitution. They pollute our streets with needles, condoms and urine. I'm not exaggerating when I say that these people are dogs. They are the scum that stains our toilet bowls. The only value I find in these people is that they are the measuring stick of social failure. Son, see that strung out junkie breaking into that car for some spare change to pay for his next fix? Yah, don't be like him when you grow up.
Let me paint a picture: One beautiful day, a few months after moving in, I look out my front window and see some dude sitting on one of my landscape rocks by the sidewalk. I watched him for a bit and was ready to go out and ask if he's okay. He seemed agitaged and uneasy. But when he took off his leather jacket, I realized that this is one dude I don't want to approach. He was about 7', with a beautifully sculpted mullet. His shirt said: "If you fuck with me, I'll fuck you up". Nice! I wanted to ask him if he bought that at the Dog's Ear shirt shop. But I didn't. Instead I watched him pace around on the side walk, until he eventually lay down, yes lay down, on my front walk. This is the walk that leads to my front door. A walk that anyone would use, including my wife if she were to park out front. I was now extremely confused, nervous and annoyed. I called the police finally but by the time they arrived, the burly hulk of a trailer park had run up to a moving chevy astro van, made some sort of exchange with the driver and both van and trailer park dissappeared. I witnessed my first drug exchange right outside the comforts of my own home. Who needs cable anyway!
I noticed more and more of this going on in front of my house, in front of neighbours houses, up the street at the corner of my block and police got tired of my 911 calls. "Sir, if it's not an emergency then stop calling us." Excuse me, they are dealing drugs right outside my fuckin' house as we talk! To which the operator so proudly points out: "Well it's probably pay day, or the crack dealers got a new shipment..." Oh gee, thanks, I don't know what I was freaking out about, have a nice day! click. I thought it totally ironic, even comical that these 'people' would park out front and walk to the crack house, but not before setting their car alarm. Car alarm? Dude that's a car you swiped! It's like two lawyers giving eachother disclaimers. It's just weird!
So I'm at my wits end, I've called crime stoppers, the police drug agency, my MP, and even read up on how to torch a crack house. But everything seems to either trail off to empty promises or jail time. Now Charles Bronson went all vigilante in Death Wish - but I don't have the luxury of stunt doubles so no thank you.
For now I have a full perimeter fence, a garage that with an automatic door, an alarm and a 100lb dobermann who is got the loudest growl/bark on the block. Not one problem on our property since Trailer Joe had a nap on our front walk *knock on wood*. However, I'm still looking for options to fix the neighbourhood. One fantasy, provided resources were available, would be to create awareness in all neighbourhoods of problem housing, identify those culprits and weed them out through exposure, constant surveillance, and a confident and capable united block of neighbours.