OK, so it's late on Friday, but it's still Friday. Whiner. For reference, see my new blog title sub-header above. And I'm just too lazy today for pictures too. Take a moment and get over it.
We here at the office have been thinking of moving to a nicer locale. If we do, we'll likely end up paying about double for rent. But there's a reason for that.
The building in which we currently reside is "street-facing", which means we are right on the street. MANY years ago, there was an apartment complex built behind us. Technically, it is facing the cross-street to our location, but because of zoning laws requiring there to be two points of egress, a right of way was given to the apartments, through our parking lot.
The traffic through there is a constant source of astonishment and amazement. Apparently, this is where the people live who are one step above "derelict" status around here, and the automobiles that drive through here are a feat of amazing engineering and a testament to what fencing wire and a pair of pliers can do. It's fun to watch what comes through, taking bets on what parts will fall off on the way over the speed bump.
Many of them walk to the grocery store, and steal grocery carts for the trip home. I once spoke to a woman who weighs about 250 pounds, wears no discernible undergarments, has about 6 teeth total, who once told me she dated someone who looked like me who was a medical student up at the U. I wasn't sure if I should be offended, or full of pity - for her or the doctor.... I smiled back at her. She has called me "sir" every time I've seen her since.
There's another guy who used to walk in and out of the apartment complex three or four times a day with his brother (we didn't know it was a brother at that time). They both walked like zombies, heavy ham-hands swinging freely at the ends of meaty, flabby arms. One has a belly that hangs about four inches out of the bottom of his shirt, like a sheet hanging out of a poorly made bed. Didn't matter the time of day, they both looked like someone had just walked up to their beds in the middle of the night with one of those marine air-horn things, and ripped one off right in their faces.
They once told my partner that they were working as police informants, off and on, and we did see them hanging out with a dude in a sheriff's car from time to time. Then about three or four months ago, we saw just the one guy out walking around. This was odd, as they always were out together. We asked him where his buddy was, and the guy looked at us and said, "He was my brother. He died." Overdose apparently. Sad.
Then, we have the building neighbors. Directly above us, there is another mortgage company - one that serves the Hispanic marketplace. If you need to "acquire" a social security number, I know who to call. There is a constant stream of people through there who couldn't find their way through a job application with a dictionary. We also have rolled up dirty diapers in our lot from time to time. I'm just sayin'. Two plus two, it's a duck.
There is an engineering firm whose president drives in and out of the parking lot in a nice Acura. He gives me the "finger guns" every time we pass each other. If we happen to both be outside at the same time, say, walking over to the C-Store for a diet coke or something, I can count on him asking me one of three stupid questions, mostly surrounding the thought that maybe it's late enough in the day to be buying beer instead of diet coke. Doesn't matter what time of day it is either. Jovial little fellow. Too jovial.
The accounting office above us has two CPA guys. One of them walks around with a red plastic cup in his hand all the time. You know what THAT means. The other guy is about five foot three, has little hair, wears shiny shirts and pants, cowboy boots, and drives a Porsche with a vanity plate that says "SOO BAD". He's about 55 years old. He walks around like he's carrying a bent nickel between his ass-cheeks and is afraid to lose it. He has a GIANT Ford truck, a Harley, and a Mercedes. He's the dude who does taxes for several on the Utah Jazz staff.
Then there's the Vet Center. And I'm not talking about animals. This is a counselling center for military vets. There are about 5 or 6 people who work there - mostly social workers and such. They all have Harleys, including the woman, who otherwise drives a newish Cadillac DeVille with a power-steering pump problem. Hers is a trike - painted pink with butterflies and rainbows. I shit you not. really. They ride them to work every other Thursday or Friday, then go out and terrorize South Salt Lake at lunch time.
The Vet Center is a constant source of odd and interesting people as well. There is one old dude with an oxygen tank at his side, who drives up in an old Dodge Caravan (and I do mean old), with stickers all over it promising better gas mileage, improved power, etc, if you'll just change your car over from what you are putting in it now, to what HE puts in it. You can hear him coming from about a block and a half away, and when he pulls up, it seems he's burning old farm animal carcasses under the hood. Seriously. The world is full of weird people. And given half an opportunity, they'll talk your leg off.
I'm not sure I want to move - we've become quite fond of our little band of misfits. I ask you, how can we leave our friends??