State of Emergency

This isn't supposed to happen here.

At this time, the city of Cincinnati is under a state of emergency and a city-wide curfew has been declared. The mayor is still undecided as to whether he should call in the National Guard. Businesses are closing early, people are looking for alternate routes home.

So much for that "Most Livable City" crap.

In less than 72 hours, I have gone from a relatively secure individual who drove through shady neighborhoods on a regular basis (not to mention working and going out there) without much concern for my safety to a scared bunny girl who is afraid to be alone in her own apartment.

After my near misses with the protests on Monday and Tuesday, I was concerned with the goings-on downtown, but wasn't really worried about my own safety. I could simply drive around the problem. But on my way home last night, I did drive past a protest. Not an exceptionally violent group - just a bunch of people standing on the sidewalk yelling their grievances at passing cars. The problem was they weren't all fitting on the sidewalk and kept spilling out into the street. As I drove past, someone lurched forward at a passing motorcyclist. The protestor may have been pushed forward by the surging crowd. He may have tried to make a deliberate grab at the biker. I took a deep breath and drove a little faster.

After going to my parents' home in Suburbia for dinner, I stopped by Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's house to hang out for a while. JohnnyB was in town for a few days, and was staying with them. No big deal, except....

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are the only white people in their neighborhood. Most of the time this isn't a big deal; they live on a street where people care about their property and take pride in their community. They have friendly neighbors, and I've never felt uncomfortable being there. Yes, there are drug dealers on the corner a few blocks away, but I've never had a problem in their part of town.

Rosencrantz suggested I drive in a different way than usual. Seems there were people hanging out on a corner a few blocks away, harrassing the cars that drove by - especially if the drivers were white. I took her suggestion and came in the back way with no trouble. Guildenstern, on the other hand, came home the usual way, and the loitering crowd had graduated to bottle throwing. He calmly walked in the house and called the police.

Nothing further happened until I went out to the front porch to smoke a few hours later. (Guildenstern is a non-smoker, so we smoke outside unless it's subzero.) While I was out there, a few cars drove by. SLOOOOOOOWLY. I started to get nervous and considered turning off the porch light so no one could see me.

At that point, someone started coming down the side street, making a lot of noise. It was too far away to tell exactly what was being broken and/or smashed, but it didn't sound good.

I stuck my head in the door. "Hey, G? There's somebody breaking shit out here. Down the street, it sounds like. You might want to call the cops or something."

The noises got louder and closer. I decided to finish my cigarette in the kitchen.

For the next few minutes, we all listened to the noises as they got louder and scarier. It souned like the angry stranger was passing down the alley that runs along the far end of the back yard. At this point I realized that, despite our strong-willed and fearless exteriors, we were nothing more than four scared white kids terrified of what was on the other side of the door. (Well, as Rosencrantz pointed out, three scared white kids and Guildenstern. He remained calm, called the police again, and talked us all down.)

The noises subsided, and we went on with our conversation. The uneasiness, however, stuck around. I ended up staying there for the evening, attempting to sleep on the couch.

The fear was still with me when I got to work, and obsessively reading every news report as it was announced didn't help matters any. By the time they announced the curfew, I was in full blown panic mode. (I guess that the extra coffee didn't help my nerves either.)

I know I'm overreacting. Everything will be fine. In a few days, a few weeks, all the broken windows will be replaced, the bars downtown will reopen. Life will return to normal. I won't always be nervously watching my surroundings, looking for that rock or bottle about to be thrown, looking for that gun aimed at me. I'm just being paranoid and irrational. The city will recover. This is not the end of the world.

I just wish it didn't feel like it was.