Curfew

Heading to bed last couple nights, it struck me as to how unusually quiet it was. You could hear a pin drop was my thought.

It finally occurred to me that the unusual quiet was because of the curfew — no street sounds.

Positioned on a main drag, there’s usually city sounds — cars, buses, motorcycles, but evidently everyone is complying with the curfew, the streets are quiet.

Second and last time I remember living under a curfew was doing the Rodney King Riots. First time was during the Watts Riots.

During the Rodney King Riots, I was living in an upstairs loft appointment in the heart of town, surrounded by restaurants, a mall, all manner of entertainment in the area.

Living so high up in the sky, looking down, gave me a bird’s eye view of quite a few interesting sights, without anyone knowing they were being observed.

Confined to home during the rioting, hunkering down much like I’m hunkering down now due to this pandemic, it wasn’t unusual to see tanks rolling down the street as the National Guard came in and set up a command center on the top level of the J.C. Penney parking garage, which top level was across from my patio.

There was also an armed guardsman stationed at the intersection outside our building, which intersected with the Mall, a newspaper office, and a drugstore.

I’d been so comfortable having that high up privacy, with a bird’s eye view, that I’d not considered the command center across the street meant there were now people able to look at us.

That is, until one of my daughters spotted a group of guardsmen looking our way with some sort of viewing device and said something to the effect that we were being spied upon … I should probably stop walking around barely clothed.

No tanks now, no National Guardsmen and me too old to care who sees what this time around.

But I do sometimes wonder about the people who live across from my now patio.

The backside of their unit faces me. There’s nothing there but a wall and one window. (The other window is the front side of the unit belonging to the nice old guy who's sweet on Church Lady).

Inasmuch as I make a point not to look into neighbor's windows, there's no reason for the couple to cover their window with all manner of drapes and black screens. So, I have to wonder if the coverage is not so much to keep me from looking in, but to keep the husband from looking out.

It's surprising management hasn’t given that couple a violation, because it’s in the lease that all management want to see on windows is white — white curtains or white blinds.

And speaking of management, heading out to the Pain Cave this morning I saw Assistant Manager’s car had taken a beating over the weekend.

Looks like Assistant Manager or her husband ran into the back of someone else.

The damage appears to be extensive, so extensive that I wonder how they managed to not only drive it back to the complex, but back it into their parking spot.

My better angel is telling me to call the office, check on Assistant Manager, see if she’s okay.

The not so angelic part of me is saying … keep out of it, let management take care of management.

I’m going not so angelic today — hoping everything’s okay with Assistant Manager and her husband, but not reaching out.

Sooner or later I’ll run into my buddy Apache. He’ll fill me in.

By the way, that loft apartment I had back in the day, even though it was in the heart of everything, only cost me $750 a month in rent. Since the area is now even more popular than it was back then, I went online to see if the building was still there.

It is and appears to have a new look, and a boatload of amenities that would attract millennials. A one bedroom rents for $2072 - $2104. Monthly rent on the loft is now $2338.

I was the right person in the right place back in the day, so lucky to have had that loft before it became too expensive. I loved living there and only left because a job relocation moved me to San Diego.

Hated it.