Booms

"You like boom
And I like boom
Enough small boom let's boom the boom-ah..."

-- "She's So Hot--Boom," by the Flight of the Conchords

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Three notable things happened tonight as I left my girlfriend's apartment in Over the Rhine (the Cincy ghetto--if you watch that vid, check out 513pridgebottomboy's comment, the one that starts, "dats good we nice but..."). OTR, as the area is called by locals, has a bad rap as far as neighborhoods go, so housing is very cheap. And sketchy.

And a bit weird.

Cases in point:

--

1.) As we said goodnight at the doorway, someone fired a gun not more than a block away. "Quick," she said, "go home. That was a gunshot." I ran to the car.

2.) I turned on the radio as soon as I got out of OTR. I didn't want to listen to "American Woman" on the classic rock station, so I hit a preset button and it went to the classical station, 91.7. The selection at first sounded like a musical saw concerto with a piano (or something), but I came to realize that the instrument was not a saw, but a softly-cradled electric guitar. I continued listening for the next five minutes, during which time the piece turned into an Irish-sounding lullaby, complete with Aeolian pipes. I have no idea as to the composer or work, but it was beautiful. As I drove under the streetlights and hugged the car against the railing on the Reading Road entrance ramp, I felt like I was in an indie movie--the bittersweet, human kind. The best kind of indie film to feel like your life is.

3.) All the lights were green. Half of them are supposed to blink yellow or red after 10pm on Friday nights.