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« Madam 8-Ball Horoscope: Huggin' Vegans | Main | American Standard: Baltimore Crime »



i have 2 favorite crime stories that i tell about my 7 years in baltimore in the nineties:

1) i was riding my bike north on Calvert St. towards Charles Village at about 9pm with a buddy. At around 22nd street I'm about to ride through the intersection and, in what felt like slow motion, I see in the corner of my eye this guy winding up as if he's about to hit a baseball (and i'm the ball). It's too late to swerve, so I tense up and hold on tight to my handlebars. He proceeds to whip me across the chest as hard as he can with a bungie cord or surgical hose or something rubbery. I rode through it and sped like hell away from there. Later at the party I was going to, I had a nice welt to show off.

2) we were bbq'ing a nice big rack of ribs on our porch in Charles Village. my buddy forgets the tongs to flip the ribs. he runs inside for 20 seconds to retrieve tongs. rack of ribs disappears from grill. we immediately send out a search party to look for a jerk with a messy face & hands anywhere in charles village and greenmount. we never found him/her.

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