Tough Guys Let Me Pass

I am used to walking in nasty areas of the world’s big cities. Try hoofing the length of Philadelphia, Baltimore of San Pedro Sula, Honduras. I guess I was just in the worst part of town but the industrial port area of Long Beach reminded me of all of these other seedy places. Walking in the early morning, before the sun was up, may have also energized my fear.

A group of tattoo decorated tough looking young men dressed in dirty white tee shirts and urine soiled blue jeans blocked the sidewalk as I approached them. They graciously stepped aside when I smiled saying “Good Morning”. I quickly moved to the center of the road where I had a better field of vision. From long experience I knew it would be easier to dodge speeding tractor trailers anxious to get their loads to port than I would be to arouse drunk, potentially knife wielding, punks before they had a good days sleep. I worked my way around Los Angelis as the town was waking up enjoying the sun and the potential of finally getting back on the open road.

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