Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, it ain't

So I come home the other day to find two of the city's finest (read, cops) outside a neighbor's house, along with a paddy wagon. (Why are they called that, anyway?) Sure enough, they were arresting a resident, reason unknown but suspected drugs. He seemed hale and hearty, joking with the officers who were hale and hearty back. Very surreal.

Then, the next morning, as I was walking to the bus stop, I was physically attacked by a girl walking ahead of me. I hadn't done anything, was just walking along. But she decided I was profiling her (she was black, I'm white) and pushed me around and yelled at me. I was in such shock that I don't really remember what she said, but I just kept repeating "Hey, I'm just walking to the bus stop."

I've seen her a few times since then, and she has the shaky movements of someone on crack.

Yeah, Mr. Rogers doesn't live here.