Once more with the po-po

I got called into the station again tonight. Dectective B. called just after 6, as I was waiting for Maria to call me so we could go to dinner, and he needed me to come right away. So I hoofed it in a hurry down to the 24th precinct, past the housing projects with all their spooky sociological baggage. It is really a good idea to call a place where someone lives a "project?"

At the precinct, it was nice to be dressed as myself, not as some girl who was awakened by police at 5 a.m. Dectective B. was the handsome Bogey type, and I was the heart-of-gold heroine. "Where are you going to dinner," he asked, surveying my attire. I was a heroine - maybe. Okay, I exaggerate, but I was able to identify right away the guy that had been at the party among the six guys on the sheet. It was an old picture, but it was definitely the guy. He had seemed so baby-faced and actually kind of nice, and I wondered if he was the stabber. The victim was his cousin, though. Who stabs family? Who stabs anybody. Who knows?

Rushed to dinner with Maria - was late. She was sitting reading the Economist when I finally got to the restaurant, poor thing. Cute place - City Market Cafe. It had kind of neo-diner decor with turquoise benches and white tile. Downstairs, where the bathrooms were, the remnants of an old firesplace. A family had lived there once. I ordered the special pasta: spaghetti with spicy sausage. Yum.

On the way home it occurred to me that this is my life. This is not just some vacation, or a study abroad or something. I live here. Here, among all these people. And the way I get around is by subway. Crowding among all the people. Actually, I like the people. I'm energized and stimulated by them. Austin was too quiet. I'd walk through my neighborhood and not see another soul on foot. Not here.