Nextdoor’s contribution to harmony in Hood Point
I live in a typical house in a typical neighborhood in a typical city and it’s time to barricade the doors because we’re all gonna freaking die!
We’ve never had an actual murder, drug deal or unlicensed bingo game go down around here but I can assure you we are all gonna die.
I know this thanks to Nextdoor, the social media platform that connects you with your neighbors so they can let you know when they haven’t seen their outdoor cat for a while and where we learn that our neighbors are laboring under the misunderstanding that an outdoor cat is somehow a pet.
It’s where we learn that our neighbors, who can’t seem to figure out the first Monday brush pickup schedule, are all retired FBI profilers who can spot a serial killer from a block away through heavy brush and half-drawn blinds.
It’s where we learn that the people we trust to operate a gas line within exploding distance of our children struggle with subject verb agreement, are confounded by basic spelling and might possibly have a “coach for sell.”
But none of that matters now because we’re all gonna die.
My vigilant neighbors have declared it so and even decided that our fine neighborhood of High Point should now be called Hood Point.
So, how does a once dull subdivision decline into a set piece from The Warriors so quickly?
Well, there was this “person with a clipboard” who was “possibly casing the neighborhood.” We say possibly because my valiant neighbors, who are constantly promising to shoot any ne’er-do-well they catch doing anything remotely ne’er near them, refuse to answer their doors.
But the man with the clipboard was only the first. In the same month there was a Rooming Gang of Kids who, in addition to sharing a place were also, roaming the streets, a suspicious group of well-dressed men and women (suited to belie suspicion no doubt), and a man pretending to be an AT&T sales rep.
Thank God for my neighbors or I wouldn’t have caught any of this as I was too busy talking to a man who wanted signatures to get liquor sales on the ballot next year, buying a discount card from the high school football team, throwing away a copy of the Watchtower and talking to an AT&T sales rep who let me know that we now have fiber in the neighborhood.
Little did I know I could have been killed.
Man, I’ve got to move.