Let's Go to Watts!

On a lovely Southern California afternoon, we left my fair sister and niece behind,
as well as my large, jolly father, and headed out to Watts. (this was summer, 2001)





"We" was me and my friend Steve. Steve is a true partner
in adventure. He did the driving.




Stopping at the gas station, I filled the tank in the most vulgar way possible.





Upon arrival in one of California's most infamous ghettos (site of the 1965 Watts riots), I felt compelled
as a middle class white male to make myself as conspicuous as possible.





Tragically, within a couple minutes I was severely wounded in a drive-by shooting.





Well, actually I was fine. The closest thing to a corpse in that neighborhood
was this dog, and even he was only sleeping.




CONTINUE