Sneakers

Sunday morning, I was alarmed to discover someone had tossed a pair of sneakers over a telephone line at the end of my driveway. My understanding is the sneakers advertise "Drugs For Sale Here". Like a big flashing neon sign. I didn't know I was now running a drug bazaar. Signifies big-ass trouble. I pulled down the sneakers.

Ten years ago, I remember the colorful tree at the end of the alley that was filled with many sneakers. I remember the SWAT-team response of the Sacramento Police when they raided the neighboring apartments. That was fun for everyone, I'm sure. Later, someone took the trouble to pull all the sneakers out of the tree.

It's probably the boorish young men who live in the second floor apartment (pictured) of the yellow apartments next door who are to blame. I've seen them toss full beer cans high in the air in order to watch them explode upon hitting the pavement. They're loud. One of my other neighbors complained they were hurling objects and shouting insults at him.

Returning from Bella's walk last night, I saw the young men reparking a van (which they had partially-parked in my driveway). I'm sure they know I pulled down the sneakers. With florid politeness that reeked of sarcasm, they wished me a good evening. Such good manners. I wished them the same (although I tried to hide my sarcasm). I'm now at the age when I can credibly be the Grumpy Old Man. Time to play it up. We may have issues in the future, although we'll probably be very, very, very polite about it.