The Fuzz
My friend Sean is in a band in Atlanta and I went to go see him practice last night. They were practicing in a warehouse in the Edgewood section of town were his fellow band mate Mitch and his girlfriend have lived and worked for years.
Edgewood was a low income/working class neighborhood until a few years ago, when suddenly all of the intown neighborhoods became hip and trendy. Some people left, others were forced out, a few have stayed, but the neighborhood is loosing its character and is being replaced with beige two story suburban homes for those who can afford to say they hate the suburbs yet build the same bland, safe homes that they are used to in downtown Atlanta.
Mitch isn't one of those folks. He has lived in Edgewood for years in an old dusty warehouse that suits his needs as an artist and a musician. His space is always open for people to stop by for a few hours or even a few days. Band practice is held at the warehouse at least once a week and Friday night was no exception. Spring had finally made its way to Atlanta, the pollen had subsided and everyone was ready to sit outside and enjoy the best time of the year. No bugs, no oppressive heat and nice long evenings in the city too busy to hate, or so I thought.
The guys in the band brought their girlfriends and everyone was hanging out enjoying the music, weather and the break from the stress of work or school. Someone bought a keg of beer and we drank, ate, and talked about politics, families, friends, movies, books and music. It was the first time I had felt truly relaxed all week.
I spoke to Harriet who is Sean's girlfriend. This girl is a throwback to the 1950's, very Audrey Hepburn looking. She has her dark hair pulled back in a pony tail, she is wearing Capri pants, a cardigan and ballet flats. It's not so much how she looks, but the way that she conducts herself that makes me feel that she is from another era. I have never seen this girl have more than one beer at any party and have never seen her drunk or even slightly buzzed. As usual she has her one beer and is standing outside while her boyfriend Sean loads his drum kit into the car. Someone needs to walk past with some equipment and Harriet steps off the curb to let them by. All of the sudden the cops are there issuing her a ticket for drinking in public.
We can only surmise that the new inhabitants to the neighborhood felt threatened by the natives enjoying their non-beige, non-security alarmed space and called the cops. It makes me wonder why they ever left the suburbs in the first place. It's a shame that they took their wrath out at a girl who never caused anyone any harm and has never been anything but kind to everyone around her.