The City of Pride and Purpose

I went to visit a client in Richmond yesterday, lately of Coach Carter fame. In the 15-20 minutes it took to drive off the highway and to my client's house, I witnessed the following:

1. A large fight down a side street, which looked like it involved at least five young men, arms and legs swinging.
2. An almost-fight at the gas station, in which the gentleman in front of me and the cashier got into a huge profanity-laden argument, resulting in the cashier coming out of his bullet-proof booth with a baseball bat, and the gentleman in front of me reaching into his jacket, but then apologizing to me and the two small children behind me in line, turning, and leaving. [cue release of breath]
3. Four loud pops in succession (which I am trying hard to pretend were firecrackers), followed a few minutes later by four racing Richmond police cars, three of which pulled into a housing unit, leaving the fourth to park across the entranceway, so no one could get in or out.

When I was in the gas station, the little kids helped me pick out a Vitamin Water (they said I should buy the Formula 50, because Fifty Cent [or, as I call him, "Fiddy"] advertises it). They were adorable, and very pleased that I made the right choice (btw, Fiddy makes a pretty good drink). I thought of them when I got back on the highway later and realized that I got to leave. They have to live there.