"Mars," I say with a smile, "I have been writing a blog about the neighborhood. Will you tell me what you think of it?" Mars is a bruiser looking Hispanic gentlemen who knows the ins and outs of North Las Vegas well. He's not a guy to mess with, not at all.
I began reading a favorite post to him, halfway through he began laughing. I finish reading and ask his thoughts...Again - he knows the area I am writing about well -- "Damn," he says emphatically, "You hit shit right on the head. I know that lady you're talking about. I've helped her cross the street a few times. Let's hear another one." I start in on another post, he began laughing again - "That one is about Dan," he bellows, "Everyone knows Dan (homeless guy). He's like the neighborhood watch around here. I give him food all the time."
After finishing I ask his opinion of the neighborhood...his real opinion - he tells me this -- "There use to be a bunch of knuckleheads around here. All sorts of fights, but Metro laid down the hammer. So most of that shit got pushed across the boulevard. It's like - How do white people say it? You know that town in Leave it to Beaver." Mayfield - I say -- "Yeah," he says and laughs, "It's like Mayfield in the barrio. Nothing goes on around here. Well, not nothing, very little goes on around here is a better way to put it."
We shoot the shit for a bit longer and then I tell him I must go - "Dude," he says as I am making my exit, "One of these days I will tell you some stories from the old days in the neighborhood. You will probably have to edit most of it out, but I can guarantee you it was a loco life for me back in the day. Now I am domesticated and can't do that shit anymore," I tell him I look forward to hearing them. I then cross the street and jump on the bus for the trek home.
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