I met her when I was working as a bartender. She worked at a Baltimore hospital. I knew she was the one and there was no way I was going to let her stay in Baltimore. I had come back because I knew people, could get a job making good money. But she gave me a reason to leave.

For starters our next door neighbor was a well known drug dealer. He had his expensive toys parked out front. He had these assholes coming over at all hours to play video games. It was only a matter of time before one of them saw her pretty ass and than that would be it.

He was nice enough to us. The women that he laid with, that he brought home, were just terrible. The worst part was he had a fourteen-year-old kid. I felt so sorry for that kid. Once some rival drug gang kidnapped his kid and threatened to mail pieces of him to the father—my neighbor. The kid is eventually recovered.

The worst part was we lived in these gentrified row houses where some yuppie thought it was a great idea to rip out the insulation and the drywall and have exposed brick walls—which means the wind blows right through and we have to hear this asshole doing all of his drug deals on the phone. He was—as per his demographic—loud. I did not feel comfortable knowing his business. Then there is the lack of fire discipline among his enemies and the BPD. We could have bullets coming through the walls at any time based on this asshole’s behavior and business. Mind you, we lived in an upscale area, one of your blue areas.

The worst part was this guy was connected—not to the mob, but to the fucking government! He got busted in a publically reported sting. The media published all the details, the dope haul, the firearms, the cash, and he’s out on the street the next week with all charges dropped—and My Girl is living next to this guy—no, not an option! So we moved, moved out of Baltimore, out of Maryland, small town U.S.A., not perfect but not a war zone.