Shots Fired. Nothing New in New Orleans

We have now been here in the New Orleans's lower 7th Ward for over seven months and have seen a lot of good and a lot of change, and a lot of new experiences, good and bad. 

New Experience #1: 

Gun Shots. 
Gun shots are not something I have ever gotten used to in my travels around the world.  I was in a bar that was shot up/held up in Charlotte, NC one horrendous night, which was also one of the first nights I have ever actually heard a pistol shot with the exception of the reverberations of a hunting rifle in the distance while playing in the country growing up. 

In New Orleans, gun shots are something you can face on a weekly basis, sometimes more, sometimes less.  Things have been relatively quiet around here lately, but I can now precisely determine the difference between gun shots and a car back fire or fireworks. 

We have also had two drive-by's happen at the trap house (look it up) a block up the street.  One of which I was home for. I was on the phone with my boyfriend when the shots started, I stopped talking and hit the floor (bar shooting flash-backs have taught me something), subconsciously counting the shots as the echoed in my mind even to this day.  They stopped shooting.  I turned the lights off in the den and looked out the window to see people in the bar catty corner to me run out to see what happened.  Immediately after a police car actually came down the street (this ONLY happens when there are shots fired, the police are absolutely non-existent in my neighborhood otherwise, and I must note, my neighborhood is five blocks from the French Quarter). I went outside more to be with these people then to find out what happened.  I know what happened. But what I need is people to talk to about it and to feel that they feel the same terror and exasperation that I do.

Two men shot, the residents of these two blocks emptied out into the street to find out more information.  Drive-by, silver Chrysler, two men hit, one of them in the neck, 8 shots fired, the facts and questions now seem standard conversation.   The police erect their giant glowing night-time crime scene light stick that rises to over eight feet.  We are all now used to this.  The people that have lived here their whole lives are still concerned because these are there brothers, uncles, sons, and fathers. These are their streets and neighborhoods, friends and loved ones. 

We decided to go out after this. Stiff drinks help, they don't help to understand, but they help.  We saw one of the homeless guys that hangs on our street and comes out to the Marigny to beg telling us the guy shot in the neck passed away.

We return to a quiet and empty street and wake to buses of upper middle class white people being carted out to the Lower 7th to work on Habitat for Humanity houses oblivious to the tragic and constant battles of the night. And, no police presence until it happens again.