gang encounter

Prior to the announcement of a new police chief coming to Portland, and his experience dealing with gangs in L.A., I never thought much about them here in Portland. But after my encounter the other day, I’m thankful he’s coming.

I was taking pleasure in the relative warmth of the sun as it melted snow and ice off rooftops and roadways on my walk to the local branch library, My “enjoying the day” pace is a bit slower than my “getting exercise” pace, so I had plenty of time to survey the scene as I came over the small rise.

There were eight or ten in the gang, all congregated at the end of the driveway of a small brown bungalow about half way down the street. Their “colors” were being proudly displayed across their backs for all to see. A raucous clamor arose from the group as they pushed, shoved, and yelled at each other, trying to gain control of their new found treasures. This rough treatment among their own members didn’t make me believe they would treat an interloper very kindly.

At first they didn’t seem to notice I was there, for which I was grateful. It gave me time to think about what I was going to do. I decided to continue on my planned route and keep my pace. As I scanned the street ahead of me I took stock of the mayhem left in the wake of these marauders. Trash bags had been ripped open and the contents scattered about, articles of recycling thrown clear of their designated blue bins. All of it making the street look like a small tornado had come through.

As I got closer and was finally noticed, they became protective of their “turf.” Many took to strutting about, puffing themselves up trying to appear larger, and they all became louder in their riotous banter. I kept my pace, watching them closely as I wasn’t sure if I should expect a confrontation. If there was one, I thought that being daytime on a fairly busy residential street, someone would call 911.

However, I had nothing to worry about. I strode along confidently, looking directly at them and showing no signs of letting off my pace. As eye contact was made they turned away. It seems they weren’t up for the challenge. Finally they took flight, literally. This marauding gang of seagulls turned tail, feathered tail, and flew, seeking refuge among the rooftops of the nearby homes. One house, with its metal roof, turned away the advances of the gulls by not allowing any kind of purchase for their webbed feet. The screech of the gulls as they slid down the roof line until finally taking flight made me declare, “That’s what you get for trashing the street.”

Chief, I hope you will appreciate the differences between our Maine style gangs and those you are leaving behind. Good luck, but keep an eye to the sky.