The Ohio and The Bklyn

So, as I previously mentioned, I've been out in not so sunny Cleveland, OH for work. It was a two week stay, then back to New York for the weekend as I was signed up to run the NYC Half-Marathon and then after brunch and repacking, it was back to Cleveland again for another week.
Cleveland has involved work (obviously), a baseball game (Indians vs. Twins), some runs through some sketchy neighborhoods, a lot of corned beef sandwiches, some grilling, a lot of rain, some bowling (143 and 137, thank you very much), many comments about Styrofoam and other environmental fiascos the city seems to embrace, some beers, a couple of concerts (Slayer/Marilyn Manson & Incubus/The Bravery), lunchtime naps in my hotel room, etc. It's not the worst place in the world, but certainly not the best either.

Speaking of worst places in the world ... remember how I recently moved? Well, while I don't find my neighborhood scary or horrible (yet) there have been a few neighborhood "incidents" that are making me wonder what the hell I have gotten myself into.

Incident #1: Saturday, (the day I moved in), this guy manages to carjack two different cars, shot at the home of his girlfriend and then got killed by the police in a shootout (135 shots, NYPD? Really?). story

Incident #2: Early Monday morning (two days after I moved in), police pull over a stolen SUV. As they approach the vehicle, both cops are shot. One dies, the other would have been dead if not for his bulletproof vest. story
Note: the dickheads involved were caught quickly

Incident #3: This past Saturday, when I came back to NYC from Cleveland, I get in a cab at LGA to go home. I tell the driver where I am going and he looks at me in the rear view and says in a thick Indian accent, "That's not a very nice area, sir." Gee, thanks. Either way, that's where I live so let's just go. The as we get close, he adds, "Perhaps this is not a very good neighborhood for you. When I drive around here, if I get lost? I don't stop to ask for directions. I just keep going."

Incident #4: This past Sunday, post running the half-marathon, as I'm cleaning up the apartment and myself a bit and packing for my return to Cleveland, the doorbell rings. I answer it and see a guy standing there with a badge around his neck. He introduces himself as whatever his rank is at the NYPD and asks if I live in this apartment. I tell him I do. He asks if I was home last night. I tell him I was. He asks if I heard or saw anything unusual outside the night previous. I tell him that I was in the back of the apartment in my room or the "office" most of the night and ask why he is asking. He tells me, "There was an argument between two men out here last night and one of them got stabbed." Perfect.

So, that's the fun in my life at this point. Two more days here in The Cleve and I'm back to my glamorous NYC life.