Tales from 6th & Alexandria

Hmmm....I feel compelled to share a story...

When I was a teenager, 6th and Alexandria was the place to be. I've got tons of stories from around that intersection.

It was THE teenaged hotspot because there was a billiard, an arcade, cheap food, and everyone sold alcohol to minors. Ahhh...all of the sweet memories are coming back.

My friends were doing the usual weekend loitering. And just like the typical weekend, trouble started brewing. A group of rival teenagers with something equally trivial to prove flashed their gang signs. (In the wilds of the gangland, flashing your gang sign was an open challenge of another group's authority to waste their life pretending to own the public benches). The challenge was heard, and my friends hiked up their extra over-sized jeans to ready their attack.

As one side shouted profanities, the other side would return shouting louder. Insults were always thrown before sticks and stones. No one's mother was spared. It was the second stage of the gang-war ritual:

1. Flash your gang sign
2. Shout at each other from across the street
3. Shout louder until you grab the public's attention
4. Approach each other and continue shouting
5. Someone yells that the police are coming
6. Run away while managing to shout a few more profanities

Like all the other times, we made our way down the entire list.

Yet, after the rival gangsters retreated to their cars, they decided to drive THROUGH the crowd. One of my friends actually got hit. The car struck him under the waist. He was launched into the air like a rag doll, did two complete back-flips, and then smacked the pavement. The eye's of bystanders widened. Everyone was shocked. But before a single person could run to him offering help, he picked himself up and casually walked away with his hands in his pockets...just as if nothing happened. (Rumor has it, he whistled while he walked).

Conversations about him getting hit by a car and walking away as if he only stopped to pick up a nickel continued for years. The moment earned him prestige and acceptance into the somewhat smaller subgroup of friends that were also run over by cars. They would laugh about what they were doing before gangsters plowed them down. Competitions over who got struck at the highest speed were common. It was funny how often the cars were Hondas or Acuras that mowed them over.


I guess you had to have been there....

All in all, we learned that teenagers are pretty stupid. Next time, maybe I'll tell you the story of the masked gunman that was recognized by a friend in the billiard - just another tale of teenaged stupidity from 6th & Alexandria.

Live. Laugh. Love.