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“Martin Luther King Boulevard” means “war zone,” part 2


The war zone looks much less scary in the daytime than it does at night, I must say. Everyone in my class is wonderful. Perhaps half of them are black, and the rest are a mix of Hispanic and white people. Most of them are police officers of various types. I have everyone from the lowest patrolman to the highest captain in my class. Most of them are armed. There is more firepower in my classroom than there was at my rifle range last weekend. I like it. We talked guns. We all agree, the Glock series of pistols is the best. That’s why their department issues them Glocks.

My students are wonderful people. I would be happy to have any of them as neighbors. They are hard-working Americans with families. I like their work ethic. They are the nicest people I’ve worked with in a long time. But as a law-and-order alien, I prefer the company of police and soldiers, so I’m not exactly unbiased.

They warned me about being in the parking garage, or outside, after dark though.

  • A few months ago, a local woman was hanging out in one of the parking garage stairwells around 10:30 at night, and was raped.
  • Last year, a man who didn’t want to pay his parking fee shot and killed the garage attendant.
  • The Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant across the street has bulletproof glass separating the counter area from the restaurant. It looks like a bank lobby.

So, I feel much better about working in the war zone, as long as it is daytime, and I have at least one (or 40) armed students with me. But I won’t stay after dark. (shudder)

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