A few nights ago Brett and I sat outside on the front steps looking over Clinton Ave and guessed which houses harbored dealers. Our guesses were based on the frequent comings and goings of random people and the late night hours they seem to entertain. At the end of our conversation I thought to myself that I can't be positive they are selling... or buying.

Until tonight! We were sitting outside again tonight breathing in the crisp autumn air and noticed an idling white car across the street, the two women obviously waiting for something. I had seen them here before. Soon a dark minivan rolled up, a young man threw it in park and left it running, and hopped in the backseat of the car for a rather quick exchange. A few seconds later he emerged with a small wad of bills and walked back to his van nonchalantly, counting the cash. He jumped back in and drove away as quickly as he came! I laughed to myself-- apparently our street with run-down homes, a half-way house and plenty of broken windows on abandoned buildings is also a locale for drive-through drug deals.


Welcome to Bridgeport, Connecticut!

Honestly though, the neighbors are friendly to us and I have no fear for my well-being. Don't worry mom, living on the west side at the railroad tracks is fine.


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