Driving down Douglas St NE, on the left there were two people working curbside out of the back of a van. It looked like they were cutting some wood with a table saw; on the porch of the house several people were sitting and hanging out. As we drove by I glanced over and caught the eye of one of the guys working the table saw. His look was friendly but neutral, which is interesting because most often I get the death stare from people in neighborhoods like this.
I was contemplating the lack of death stare, J said, "Does that guy have a gun? He has a gun!" I whipped around to take a look at the guy calmly jogging across the street in front of our car. I didn't see anything at first - my eyes were looking for a black handgun - and then I saw the RIFLE he was holding to his side! What?!
I immediately tried to call the police but, even though we were in DC, the call went to the Prince George's County 911 service who did not pick up!! I got a call back right away but by that time J had already tried to call, received a callback, answered, and was giving our location and description to the dispatcher.
Wow! How weird was that. We heard sirens right away but I'm sure that the kid was already inside the apartment building by the time units responded, and I'm equally sure that none of the residents or porch-dwellers wanted to give helpful guidance to the police.
We did end up having a nice time at the gardens, however. Here are some photos:
After we wiped ourselves out we went down to the wharf, bought a dozen crabs (plus five the guy threw in), had them steamed with lots of Old Bay, and ate them on top of a pile of newspapers at the marina, chugging cokes and sucking on our fingers where the spices get inside little cuts made from handling the crab claws. It stings!






