police car waiting around the corner. I saw the guy I thought had chased me talking to his partner, and did my best to keep my smile hidden. Even if they noticed me at this point they wouldn’t bother arresting me; vandalism is an inadmissible charge unless it’s caught in the act. With no spray cans or markers on me, any judge would throw out my case. A group of men from the bar on the corner were watching the scene. The cops started yelling at them to go back inside. The situation was getting tense and the cops tried to control it, but tempers were flaring up and voices rose; meanwhile the kids sat silently, handcuffed on the pavement. Bar patrons were being arrested, cops were screaming at the surrounding crowd to disperse, the bartender tried to get his customers inside, more police in riot gear were massing and the residents above were looking out their windows trying to figure out what was happening to the neighborhood. “I will arrest you all for drunk and disorderly if you don’t back up now!” a white-shirt cop screamed at the crowd moving closer to the handcuffed teenagers. People began to shout back. “Boss Tweed said you could always hire half of the poor to kill off the other,” a voice in the crowd responded. A decade ago, none of this would have happened. There was no Vandal Squad and the 81st Precinct cops didn’t waste their time arresting halfdrunk bar patrons. Cops started to crack down – on petty crimes, public drunkenness, moving violations – only after the Towers fell. It was all part of rebuilding. Police enforced a policy to make a new improved Brooklyn. “This is Bed-Stuy… what ya doin’?” someone yelled from the crowd. “Back inside,” was the only response. Cops arrested, sometimes even pepper-sprayed onlookers in these neighborhood situations. This wasn’t worth watching any more. The order to violently disperse the crowd was a few minutes away as the white shirts ran out of control. I was lucky to have escaped all of this, but more importantly I had to check for walls to put up another tag tomorrow night. I walked home, fell into bed, double-checked my alarm and slept. Before I could remember my dreams I was up, brushing my teeth, putting on a clean shirt and walking to work. On the way to the subway I passed the daylit graffiti and the morning-shift police drinking coffee. I knew none of these cops; the Vandal Squad comes on duty after dark. I took the A train into midtown and pushed my way through the streets to the building I work in. I have to pass two security checkpoints just to work in a call center. I clocked in at nine and begged for the hours to disappear. My mind constantly drifted to the piece I couldn’t complete the night before. I blinked and it was 11am; and then the day started to slow down. The
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