This was on the street, between Dunkin Doughnuts and the church, right off of Harford Road

I get a call at about lunch time, 11, maybe noon.

I get to the door and I walk up and knock on the door and nobody answers. So I call the cell phone number on the receipt and they answer and say, “Come around back by the drive way.”

There is a door back there, a tiny little basement apartment, a table there, a bottle of booze and a crack pipe and some baggies around it.

I said, “You guys been partying?”

And they said, “Yeah, we been up about two days straight.”

I give them their food and get no tip and I have somebody else’s food in the car and take that to them. Then, on my back to the shop, these two idiots—this is only 20-25 minutes after I sold them their food—they’re up at Inchon John’s liquor store fist-fighting with two dindus.

The fat guy had the one dindu with his shirt pulled over his head hockey style, battering him.

The other two guys were wrestling up against the wall, punching each other in the face.

A day in the life of Baltimore.

What can you say?

It’s not perfect and it’s often a shame, but it’s my city.