Driving to work this morning, I noticed three or four police cars parked on the side of the road as I approached the afore-mentioned "drug park". Driving past, I looked into the park to see what must have been at least 6 police officers gathered around the picnic tables.
Guess those guys weren't just having the worlds longest picnic...
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
Park - 1. Me - 0.
Despite the fact that there is a park located quite close to my house, I rarely take the dogs to it. Perhaps the fact that I have come to think of the park as "the drug park" has something to do with that. But every so often, I decide I am being prejudiced about this conveniently located park and decide to give it another chance.
And, all in all, it isn't that bad. I mean, just because there is a group of men that constantly hang out at the picnic table area at all hours of the day or night, it doesn't mean that those men are drug dealers. Or homeless people. I'm pretty sure it just means that they are having a picnic. A really long picnic. On a weekday. At 7:42am. Or 11:57pm. And all the hours in-between.
And it isn't that big a deal that to get to the grassy part of the park, you have to walk over this little footbridge, that a guy... um... lives under. Fortunately, I don't wear skirts to the park. (Fortunate for that homeless guy, heh heh...)
So we went to the park the other day, and we made it across the footbridge without incident. But I am always paranoid that I am going to have some kind of awkward social interaction with the.... denizens... of the park. Anyway, we went over to the most deserted corner of the park and I let the dogs off leash for a little run. Well, Ranger ran and Gwen mostly waddled. She has the chunky solid fat that's all in one big lump. When she waddles at a semi-high speed, she looks like a brick wall coming at you. Ranger's fat is more squishy-like and it undulates in a charming fashion when he runs. He looks like a 100-lb lava lamp with fur.
After all that running, waddling and undulating, I put the dogs back on their leashes and walked over to the water fountain near the picnic tables to get the dogs a drink. And, yes, the world's longest picnic was in full swing. I am trying to be very unobtrusive so that no one talks to me. Well, as unobtrusive as a big fat chick with two big fat dogs can be.
Just as I am about to head past the picnic tables to the other side of the park, one of the drug dealers/homeless guys/extreme picnic-ers calls out to me - "Hey, Miss Ma'am..." And of course, I am still thinking "Please don't talk to me. Pleeeeeeeease don't talk to me. I don't want any crack and if I had any extra money I would have already spent it on grape soda and People magazine." I am tempted to pretend I don't hear him and just keep on truckin'. But what I actually do is say "Hi, how are you today?" He asks me where I am going, and I reply that we are just walking around. He then proceeds not to offer to sell me drugs, ask me for money, or even invite me to a picnic. He instead tells me that I may not want to go down to the other side of the park, as there is a dog down there (off its leash) that might give my dogs some trouble. Oh. Okay.
I thank him for the information and proceed to move quickly in the other direction (have I mentioned recently that Ranger is a total asshat with other dogs? Yeah, he's a lover, not a fighter. But he's also a fighter.) As I am walking away, behind me I hear the universal signal for someone who can't control their dog - the escalating shrieking of the dog's name. "Koda... Koda.... KODAAAAAAA!"
So we start booking it towards the car (Run away! Run away!), pursued at a distance by the other dog, who has seen us and whose interest is piqued. Now my dogs are not smart enough to have actually noticed the presence of the other dog yet, so I am trying to drag them away as quickly as possible while still looking nonchalant. And, they, of course, suddenly find every little thing endlessly fascinating and in need of investigation - "Oooh, a blade of grass.... Oooh, an empty crack vial.... Ooh, a dude under the bridge..."
We make it back to the car without any close encounters of the rogue dog kind, and no incident more serious than a severe case of sweaty jean waistband for me (I believe I have previously mentioned how much I hate this). Crisis averted.
So, Mr. Homeless Guy/Drug Dealer/Extreme Picnic-er? Thanks for the warning - you are a nice guy.
And I? Am a judgemental bitch.
And, all in all, it isn't that bad. I mean, just because there is a group of men that constantly hang out at the picnic table area at all hours of the day or night, it doesn't mean that those men are drug dealers. Or homeless people. I'm pretty sure it just means that they are having a picnic. A really long picnic. On a weekday. At 7:42am. Or 11:57pm. And all the hours in-between.
And it isn't that big a deal that to get to the grassy part of the park, you have to walk over this little footbridge, that a guy... um... lives under. Fortunately, I don't wear skirts to the park. (Fortunate for that homeless guy, heh heh...)
So we went to the park the other day, and we made it across the footbridge without incident. But I am always paranoid that I am going to have some kind of awkward social interaction with the.... denizens... of the park. Anyway, we went over to the most deserted corner of the park and I let the dogs off leash for a little run. Well, Ranger ran and Gwen mostly waddled. She has the chunky solid fat that's all in one big lump. When she waddles at a semi-high speed, she looks like a brick wall coming at you. Ranger's fat is more squishy-like and it undulates in a charming fashion when he runs. He looks like a 100-lb lava lamp with fur.
After all that running, waddling and undulating, I put the dogs back on their leashes and walked over to the water fountain near the picnic tables to get the dogs a drink. And, yes, the world's longest picnic was in full swing. I am trying to be very unobtrusive so that no one talks to me. Well, as unobtrusive as a big fat chick with two big fat dogs can be.
Just as I am about to head past the picnic tables to the other side of the park, one of the drug dealers/homeless guys/extreme picnic-ers calls out to me - "Hey, Miss Ma'am..." And of course, I am still thinking "Please don't talk to me. Pleeeeeeeease don't talk to me. I don't want any crack and if I had any extra money I would have already spent it on grape soda and People magazine." I am tempted to pretend I don't hear him and just keep on truckin'. But what I actually do is say "Hi, how are you today?" He asks me where I am going, and I reply that we are just walking around. He then proceeds not to offer to sell me drugs, ask me for money, or even invite me to a picnic. He instead tells me that I may not want to go down to the other side of the park, as there is a dog down there (off its leash) that might give my dogs some trouble. Oh. Okay.
I thank him for the information and proceed to move quickly in the other direction (have I mentioned recently that Ranger is a total asshat with other dogs? Yeah, he's a lover, not a fighter. But he's also a fighter.) As I am walking away, behind me I hear the universal signal for someone who can't control their dog - the escalating shrieking of the dog's name. "Koda... Koda.... KODAAAAAAA!"
So we start booking it towards the car (Run away! Run away!), pursued at a distance by the other dog, who has seen us and whose interest is piqued. Now my dogs are not smart enough to have actually noticed the presence of the other dog yet, so I am trying to drag them away as quickly as possible while still looking nonchalant. And, they, of course, suddenly find every little thing endlessly fascinating and in need of investigation - "Oooh, a blade of grass.... Oooh, an empty crack vial.... Ooh, a dude under the bridge..."
We make it back to the car without any close encounters of the rogue dog kind, and no incident more serious than a severe case of sweaty jean waistband for me (I believe I have previously mentioned how much I hate this). Crisis averted.
So, Mr. Homeless Guy/Drug Dealer/Extreme Picnic-er? Thanks for the warning - you are a nice guy.
And I? Am a judgemental bitch.
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