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I love New York in the springtime, it’s my favorite season. The weather is a comfortable 70 degrees minus the humidity. It gets dark at 7:30 and everyone and their mother is out and about. The gringos sipping on their iced coffees, the old ladies walking their expensive puppies, and then there’s Crown Heights, dead smack in the middle of Central Brooklyn. Here, it’s the annual dose of springtime stick up. Walking down Utica Avenue one becomes a vigilante witness at the sight of cops busting down street vendors on your way to the corner pitbull fights on President Street. If home décor is your thing, you can also buy incense and a glock at free will. Cause at night you might be caught in the middle of a gay teenage gun battle. Yup, I was on the B46 and two gay kids ran out and started licking shots. But if you’re into more traditional suspense thrillers, there’s nothing like the melee on Eastern Parkway. On any given day you can get shot and run over by the speeding traffic while waiting for the gypsy van. It’s a tough hood but one with charisma and conviction. The last battle against the system was fought in this nabe, during the riots of 1991. And in a city that’s quickly becoming a mixture of Disneyland meets a college campus, Crown Heights remains a painful yet very endearing reality. El mundo es un barrio.