Crazy in the City: The world is your urinal

My home office looks out onto the street. It’s not the prettiest view in the world, but there is some foliage and traffic to keep me entertained in  moments of procrastination and daydreaming.

I live in a decent neighborhood with it’s eclectic mix of whack jobs and professionals. Yet, it does not seem to matter what walk of life a man comes from, they all seem to view the great outdoors as their personal toilet. I cannot recount the amount of times I have been innocently looking out my window only to see a man walk towards the parking lot across the street while skittishly looking all around – heading either behind the green recycling bin (to the left in the picture) or behind the chain link fence (to the right in the picture) and quickly unzip their pants and let loose. I have seen men in business suits do this – I have seen punk rock kids do this.

Yesterday, I saw a nice car pull over – it looked new – and the guy who got out was well dressed. Assuming he was off to visit someone or go somewhere, I was shocked to watch him scurry behind the recycling bin and unzip – not even having the courtesy to turn around as he felt pissing on the building was an appropriate urinal. As soon as I realized this, I turned my attention to my computer screen, hoping to change the mental image in my head.

And this happens all the time. About a week ago, early evening, my partner was working in the basement with the door open. He was on the phone when he heard some rustling in our backyard. He ran outside to catch a (very) disheveled man urinating on the wall next to the open door! Confrontation ensued, and the men eventually left – but not soon enough as to leave stains on our new foundation. To be fair, I kind of expect this kind of behavior from someone in the state of inebriation that this man was – but this is not behavior reserved for such men. It seems no matter how well to-do, it seems when a man’s gotta go, he’s incapable of going to a gas station or waiting until he arrives at his destination….

Crazy Shouldn’t Drive

I meant to post this a little while back when it happened, but life and procrastination got in the way.

In keeping with my crazy in the city sub-theme, the other day, the older woman who I may have mentioned spent some time gardening in her skivvies (bottoms only) late at night, wanted to go somewhere. They have three cars parked in her yard/driveway – 2 side by side, and one across them. She lives with her son, and so, she asked him to move his car so that she could get her car out. So they both get into their cars, and before her son can even start the engine (her car was closer to the door, so she was in hers first), she started her car and backed out. … before he started his engine… sitting on my balcony stunned – I could not believe that she just got in her car and backed right into her sons car, taking out his side mirror… let’s just say the scene that followed was horrific – a son should never yell at his mother the way this man did – but maybe … just maybe, he should be the responsible one and not let crazy drive…

Eclectic Gardening

Why – I ask – must my flamboyant neighbor from across the alley garden in in underwear? There are no trees – no hedges – no fences to hide his business…..and when he uses that shovel, it’s just a wee bit more than I ever needed to see…. Why….can’t…. I….look…..away???

Crazy in the City

Earlier this year (during the winter months), I blogged about the crazy bunch of art students who took nude pictures lying in garbage in my alley way early in the morning. Sadly, they weren’t the brightest bunch, and left all the garbage they had dragged in from the street in the middle of the alley. It seems they had no problem leaving their mess behind for others to clean up.

The saddest part of this story was not the students’ attempt at photographic irony, or the fact that they had little to no regard for other people’s living space, no – it was the fact that everyone who drove down the alleyway felt that it was better to simply run over the four full large black garbage bags… not one driver had the wits about them (or civic concern) to actually get out of their car and move the garbage aside. Sadly, when my husband came home from work, he stopped the car before pulling into our driveway (the mayhem occurred just next to our place) and cleaned up the mess of broken glass and garbage (I helped him clean it). Needless to say, he was not a happy man. For myself, all I could think of is how crazy people can be. Crazy to strip down to your skivvies for a school art project; crazy to simply drive over garbage instead of picking it up.

After that story, I thought about starting a blog about the crazy shit that I see living in the city. I live just east of downtown, and just west of one of the many areas where gentrification has not tightened it’s grips in yet. Sometimes I just want to shake my head and cry, other times I am tempted to hire a hitman (that is a joke – in case anything bad ever happens….).

I have tons of stories – every day there is someone who thinks a neighbor’s fence is a public urinal, or someone who feels the need to rant and rave at me for “owning” my apartment when they can’t even afford to rent one (this came after he tried to rummage through the garbages and recycling on my balcony while I was sitting there – but without uttering a word to me….). My crazy neighbor lady who has no qualms, at 65+, to come outside in the middle of the summer – in the middle of the night to do some gardening while having a late night cigarette… not the end of the world, except she was only wearing her underwear …. traumatic scene for anyone I tell you.

Or yesterday, this lady – looked to be somewhere in her mid-twenties – who drove a full half a kilometer with her handbrake on going at least 40km an hour – it took her quite some time to realize that the thick blue smoke and harsh squealing noise was coming from HER car! Then with a great big loud CLUNK, the squealing stopped, and I imagine, she realized her handbrake was on and simply took it off (with nary a drop in her speedometer…).

Or today – another creepy neighbor guy who knocked at my back door asking me if my husband was home. When I told him no, that he was at work, he continued to tell me why he needed my husband at the very minute – and could I get him… (seems a neighbor’s car was having some trouble in the alleyway and needed to be jacked). When I told him there was nothing I could do, and that my husband worked until 1am this morning, he asked for my address (wtf!?).

And so, I’ve decided to start a new tag for my blog called crazy in the city – so I can share the insanity with anyone who cares to read. Perhaps, after a while, I won’t feel quite as crazy as I thought I was!