Home Sweet Ghetto

When we arrived in San Leandro, we weren't taken back by it's beauty. Our neighborhood is rather quaint and homey, but outside of that things are a little run down and, well, I'll put it this way -- I won't be jogging outside at night. I didn't think it was that ghetto at first, but after a few trips around other parts of the Bay, we're convinced that it is. We got some Thai in downtown Palo Alto last night after going to Ikea. Palo Alto is NICE. A lot nicer than San Leandro.

On top of being in an undesirable part of town, we're really close (like 100 feet) to a daily run of a Union Pacific train -- complete with horn-blowing and house tremors. BART, the Bay Area Rapid Transit, also runs close by, and the picture wouldn't be complete without planes flying overhead on the way to the Oakland International Airport, about 10 minutes from here.

The couple of trips we've taken to Wal-Mart reminded us that we're not in Provo anymore. I realized during the first few minutes I was in there that we, aside from the door greeter, were the only white people in the whole place. Don't get me wrong, that usually doesn't bother me, but it was getting late and well, the crowd that goes to Wal-Mart at night isn't the kind I'd invited over for dinner. Last night we needed to drop by there on the way home and because it was late, I decided to stay in the car with the baby. I pulled out my laptop and checked my e-mail while I was waiting.

Then it occurred to me, "Why am I sitting here in a ghetto parking lot, alone, with a laptop in my lap shining like a beacon in the dark, just asking to be ripped off?"

As I finished up what I was doing, a car parked in the spot right across from me, and a man got out of the car. I saw him glance over at me, then he started to walk over. I immediately began to tense up, I closed my laptop a bit and I heard him start to say something to me like he wanted me to roll down my window. I shook my head at him as if to say, "No way, buddy. There is NO way I'm rolling down my window so you can get me." I think he sensed it and stayed about 5 feet from the car. I could hear him say through the window,

"Hey, if I were you, I wouldn't be sitting in this parking lot with a laptop running. Somebody was ripped off last week. I thought I'd warn you."

Silly, naive me, with my Idaho license plates. That's what he was probably thinking. He was right. What was I thinking?

On the brighter side, I do feel safe in our neighborbood and our place is kind of cute (despite the carpet).