east side memories

(the following took place on may twelfth two thousand nine)

It was a beautiful spring evening on Des Moines’ East Side. The rain was tumbling down from the humid gray cloud cover, the thunder and trains competing for boom power. I parked my survivor-of-a-Buick in the street and made a mad dash for the house. (Who needs umbrellas when you can sprint in high heels?) Safely inside, changed out of my dampened spring dress, and re-wardrobed in the typical jeans and hooded IOWA sweatshirt, it was clearly time for me to have an after-work cigarette on my covered front porch. As I unsuccessfully tried to juggle said sunshine stick, large study Bible, and wind-lashed onion-skin pages, I heard a car honk. Deciding to finish the 34th chapter of Exodus in the wind-free interior of my home, I closed The Book and looked up to see to the diminutive blue hatchback honking and pulling into the vacant lots across the street.** Packed inside the unlikely off-roader were three young men, clearly of an east siderly upbringing. As they whooped out of the windows, which were half-rolled down, I pitied the birds, chipmunks, and rabbits that flew, scurried, and jumped out of their plundering. I pitied the dandelions and Kentucky blue grass blades even more…defenseless victims to traditional east side shenanigans. Sigh. ‘But wait,’ said Nature, ‘don’t fret your little hippie-heart,’ and, as if on cue, the Blue Hatchback was snared in a bog of deep mud, surreptitiously hidden beneath a large, rain-dimpled puddle of water. The wheels spun uselessly as muddy water flew about, like light from a sparkler on the fourth of ju-ly. Immediately the passenger, whom we’ll call ES1*, leaped out and ran diagonally across the street to his abode…whether for help or to escape we shall never know. I, of course, whipped out my green Rumor and snapped a few pictures, which earned me a sheepish smile and wave from ES2*, the driver. I discarded my cigarette butt into the ashtray and entered the house to finish reading the promised Exodus, chapter the 34th.

Approximately one hour later, according to my nicotine receptors, I was once again on my front porch. Lo and behold, the Blue Hatchback had answered a summons of its own and was back to tearing around in yonder wet plain. As I dismissed the non-mystery of the tool-igans in favor of The Mystery of Edwin Drood, I heard a charming “HEY!” vocally thrown my way. Ah yes, the young men were hearkening to me. I gave a half-hearted wave in their direction, accompanied by my irrepressible Mary-Kate Olsen fake smile. “COME ‘ERE!” bellowed ES2 as he motioned with his arm and hand. “COME ‘ERE!” he repeated as I stared back; unresponsive save for my raised left eyebrow. “Come do this with us!” he further entreated, gesturing to the car. “NO THANKS!” I returned, (politely I do hope.) Subsequent persuasions were hollered my way. “Come on! It’s fun! Come with us! What’s your name? Sheva bocka goo ma lee!” The last sentence being an example of what they presumably did NOT say, but what my mind could comprehend over the traffic, train yards, and suchlike contributors to the East Side soundtrack. My replies ran as thus: “No thank you. No thank you! I don’t want to get muddy.” Which were accompanied by my requisite head-wagging and arm-crossing “no’s.” My reply stayed consistent even after the East Side Romeos deserted their beloved lot to idle that Blue Hatchback at my home’s curb. Needless to say, I did not relent to their entreaties, and they swiftly hot-dogged their way off to other vehicular pursuits. Thus closes today’s East Side Memory.

*East Sider 1, East Sider 2.
** It is not uncommon to see vehicles “off-roading” in said vacant lot. They range in appearance from bicycles to four-wheelers to pick-ups and, of course, to blue hatchbacks.