Training Ground

I just had an experience that changes the way I look on LA and the east hollywood area where I live. Here it is:


There is a taco truck about 4 blocks from my house. It's close enough that we could easily walk but I'm so used to driving here we decide to take his Prius. In between the taco truck and my  there are three sets of traffic lights. In about a minute we're there. Once we're done eating we start to head back to my place. The first light we breeze right past but we quickly get stopped by the traffic in front of the second. We end up stop right next to an intersecting neighborhood street. As we pull up to wait, I see a white passenger van pull to the end of the neighborhood street facing up and stop. In the front is a very stern looking man and woman, both wearing blue sweatshirts. I look to the side of the van, an emblem reads "LAPD". The side door slides open and grey sweatshirts begin to drain out, trainees. First five of them, ten of them. Each hit the ground running to form two jogging lines. Fifteen, twenty, the light changes, twenty-five, we begin to move and the curiously small van is still parked with excited young people in grey sweatshirts running out in twos. (thirty, thirty-five, forty...)

We move on from the brigade and continue up to the third light.

Once again we're stopped, this time there are only a few cars between us and the light. I can already see my street. To our left is a liquor store I've ventured to many times at night. To my right I hear a very high pitched yell. I turn to see three little kids playing outside a rickety apartment building. The kids are eight years old. Supervising them are two dude, young guys both about twenty. I notice the two guys' attention is diverted across the street. I follow their eye lines' to three tough looking dude walking at a good pace, from the liquor store, across the street, right at them and the kids. I notice the one in front, wearing a large white t-shirt, has his hand tucked up between his shirt and belt. He's holding something grey and shiny. As they pass in front of our car I hear the two groups begin yelling in Spanish. PUTA! (the only word I understand) Suddenly the guy in white's hand springs out from his belt. A long silver shank jabs and hooks out at the two guys. They jump back and take off! Before I could blink, they'd sprint down the alleyway nearly shanked and out of site. The one in white hides his knife back under his shirt. The other two shoot a quick look down both side of the street and begin back towards the liquor store. As the first one reach the bumper time slowed, I image him sticking out his long silver blade, if I stuck my hand out towards him it would probably just reach enough to cut my finger. They jog in a triangle formation back to the liquor store. Light changes, air begins to moves again, we pull into the drive way, silence, "those little kids"...

In earshot of my house and one block apart, there are two groups of trainees.