Which one?

Today I had an unusual experience.  I was waiting at a shared bus stop (this was when I got passed up and handed out 2 Bibles as a result).  I was talking to an older Black lady who was waiting on the "Ghetto" bus.  I was waiting on the other bus. 

We got to talking about bad neighborhoods and her eyes bugged out as I told her about some neighborhoods.  I thought, huh.  She lives in a grim part of town, and she's horrified by these stories.  Maybe my Bloggers would be interested. 

Let's start with my first place after moving out of my Dad's house.  It was a converted garage apartment.  It still had the garage door in place to fool the housing inspector.  It was completely illegal.  Had the place caught on fire we'd have died.  We lived there a year. 

Then, we moved to Avenue J - we'll call it that.  J was an interesting neighborhood.  We lived off a very busy street.  The bulidings near the street were not in very good repair, and the farther away you got the nicer the houses.  At the far end of the Avenue, it was positively lovely.  This was out in CA and we had to take whatever we could, it was a landlord's market. 

The apartment had been fumigated improperly and a resident had died.  Everyone moved out afterwards.  We moved in because we could afford it at the bargain rate of $500 a month. 

It had plenty of amenities.  We lived in a small town; it was near the library, post office, 2 grocery stores, and the thrift shop.  We lived near a transit center, vital for the bus-bound.  Ron and I commuted to work. 

However, it was grim.  We lived next to a crackhouse (I naively thought they "had a lot of friends"), complete with crack prostitute.  She assured me once she would never do business with Ron.  [twitch]  The bus stop always had a lovely halo of dirty needles surrounding the bench.  I NEVER wore sandals.  The headshop did tatooes and alarming piercings that had me scratching my head and cringing in horror. 

I never went out at night without my ham radio; the Bad Guys assumed I was law enforcement and literally ran away from me.  Yike. 

I was pretty happy to get out of there, but I do miss the amenities.  We moved to Texas. 

Our first place was a well-known landing pad for those new to Houston: The Lantern Village.  All bills paid.  It was near a grocery store and 2 bus lines.  It had a high crime rate, we knew of 2 robberies that occured while we lived there.  Yike.  The traffic was absolutely dreadful. 

Then we moved to NE Houston.  Here's an article about the neighborhood.  http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/metropolitan/7231932.html

Yup, Ron and I lived in that crime-ridden slum for 3 years.  My favorite story about the neighborhood comes from the "Crackhead Apartments".  It contained about 150 units or so.  The swimming pool looked like some kind of virulent petri dish.  People cut pedestrian holes in the metal fence. 

One night, I witnessed a drug deal.  I went to management the next day.  "I saw a drug dealer living here!" 

They laughed at me.  "Oh, which one did you see?"  Huh?  Does not compute.  150 units.  Drug dealer... one, right? 

No.  "We have at least three drug dealers living here.  Which one did you see?" 

Oh, crap.