The marksmen of the Point

Thus far, I have not delivered on my promise to provide entertainment by way of Point stories. And it has not been for lack them. It's that my blogging-binge tendencies aren't able to keep up with the randomness of everyday life in the Point. There were three recent stories, however, that deserve to be mentioned.

Before I delve into the stories, let me first set the stage for those of you who have never been to the Point. The Point (or Locust Point if you want to know it's correct title) is a historic peninsula town that serves as one of Baltimore's earliest ports. In the mid-1800s, rowhomes began to pop up to meet the needs of the ever-growing workforce that was employed by the shipping industry. In fact, the house that Ryan and I used to live in was built in 1875. Many of the "locals" in the Point live in the same houses that their families have lived in for years. The locals are refreshing to me as they remind me of my Pittsburgh roots. For the most part, they're blue collar workers that stress the importance of families, friends, and good neighbors. On any given evening, you can go outside and see them sitting on their stoops chatting the night away while they wait for the ice cream lady to drive by. Anyways, back to the history...Within the last 5 years, the Point began to flourish in the real estate boom. Many of the rowhomes that were originally purchased for a few thousand dollars were being renovated or knocked down entirely to fit the needs of the incoming yuppies flocking to the area. There is currently a clear distinct between the locals and the newbies. Lucky for Ryan and I, we had a great neighbor who was well connected with the locals and introduced us. Ryan used to enjoy his nightly chats with the little old ladies of the neighborhood. But then Ryan and I moved a few streets over into one of those new developments that I mentioned. Our new community, while in the Point, is somewhat sheltered from its glory.

1. Ryan and I were walking Hudson one afternoon. We were back in our old neighborhood. I happened to glance over at this one basement window (these are rowhomes, so the basement window is in line with the sidewalk). This is what I saw:

I wasn't sure whether I should take this as a threat or feel privileged that such a sharp shooter is living down the street.

2. Our old neighbor Melissa is in the know when it comes to Point happenings. We also go to her for the latest gossip. So, we asked her about the drug dealers that used to live next to us. (If I haven't already posted this, the greatest Point story of all came from one of the drug dealers, Mike, that sat down with us one night and told us everything about his life, including how he got his old girlfriend pregnant and his current girlfriend's dad's friend bit him on the shoulder - we even got to see the scar). She said that she wasn't sure Mike was still around and I mentioned that I saw him down the street, so maybe he was living with his mom now since that's where she lived. Well, Melissa says "I wonder if his mom is the woman who was found dead in that house". She proceed to tell us this story:

There is a rowhome broken into multiple apartments (this is where Mike's mom lived). Apparently, there was a dog there that kept barking. So, one of those damn yuppie couples called the police. When the police came, they found a woman dead inside. Following the police visit, the yuppie couple started to find pieces of cut-up baby doll on their front step. Eventually, they moved out of the Point.

Yep, someone made "threats" by mutilating a baby doll. I couldn't make this stuff up.

3. I was working in my office at home the other day. There was someone at my door. I opened it to find a young (early 20s) guy on my front step. I was prepared to tell him that I didn't want to buy a newspaper subscription so that he could go to college (yes, I'm mean.) Instead, he asked me if I wanted to buy some steaks and seafood. The confused look on my face prompted him to tell me that it was raining and he didn't feel like working so he wanted to get rid of the steaks and seafood in his delivery truck. I told him that I didn't have room in my freezer for that (which is true) and he told me that he'd throw in a free freezer. Uhhhh...what?!?! I told him no thanks and quickly locked the door.

Welcome to "The Point"

For the 3+ years that Ryan and I have lived in Locust Point, we have encountered many incidents that we have coined "Point Stories". There are some things that happen in The Point that just wouldn't happen anywhere else. See, The Point is comprised of the new residents and "the locals". To put it lightly, the locals are a working class that like to unwind in the Point watering holes and subsequently provide us entertainment.

As we were walking home from the water taxi yesterday we added yet another Point story to our collection, albeit a mild one. We decided to use it to preface some of our favorites.

We were walking down Hull St. Ryan was pushing Hudson in his stroller and Ryan's parents were walking behind us. About a block ahead of us, there was a man and two women walking towards us, obviously locals. The one woman started to wave to us as she stumbled. She was shouting "SHHHHH - BABY. NO CUSSIN'! THERE'S A BABY - SHHHHH! As they got closer, I saw the woman approaching the stroller as I quietly shouted "RYAN - WATCH HER!" under my breath. Ryan was just like "okay..." and swerved around her as she bent down to touch Hudson. Afterwards Ryan and I just looked at each other and said "The Point!".

Now that story has NOTHING on most of our other Point Stories. I'll try to recount some of them, but there really are too many to remember. (And I'll invite Megan and Jay to add any of their Point Stories in the comments to this post.)

There was the time that Ryan and I were searching for the ice cream lady and we saw a man with blood dripping from his head walking around with a club in his hand. He followed us all around and I was certain that he was going to jump us (I even devised a self-defense plan in which my Heath alter-ego would be released). Instead he sat down on a stoop to someone's house and had a beer.

Or there was the time that we were walking towards the ice cream lady (do you see a theme??) and we saw a man sitting on a stoop yelling across the street "I'm going to jail tomorrow" with a pronounced slur. Ryan was like "who is he talking to??". I was like, "I'm sad to say that he's talking to that dog". He continued to subject the canine to his sad story.

Or there was the time that Ryan and I were enjoying our ice cream on our front stoop while I was noticably pregnant. A young guy who lived in the known "drug dealing house" approached us with his pregnant girlfriend. The pregnant belly was all he need to see to initiate the conversation. He told us many intimate details of his life including his attempts to get his ex-girlfriend pregnant (which failed because the girl was on drugs), his own struggles to maintain a job and his drug dealing stint, and his run-in with his baby mama's drug dealing dad's friend in which he lost part of his shoulder to a bite wound (we even saw the scar).

Or, my personal favorite, the time when I was reading outside on our stoop (no ice cream involved). An old (~80 years old) man was walking, errrr... stumbling, in front of me. He noticed there was a bird on the sidewalk that began to move. He was very confused and looked at me, asking if I did that. I was like "huh??". He told me that he thought I had the bird on a remote control. Upon hearing that, I just pretended to read again. As he passed by, I looked up again and the entire backside of his pants was wet and brown....

We couldn't make this stuff up.