Times of Nothing

Thanks to Daylight Savings Time sunset came an hour later this evening.

I like the extra hour, but hate the winter shift of an hour.

Several years ago I was working at a diamond store off 5th Avenue. A good address.

Not 47th Street. Dusk was always a little scary from November to March and one afternoon I received a phone call from a friend in Bruxelles.

“Are you all right?”

“Sure, why not?” I hadn’t drank anything the previous evening. That’s a lie, but one martini in the Oak Bar couldn’t hurt my system.

“There was an armed robbery in the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel.” Alan was an art dealer. Criminals in that field never use guns. “A guard was shot by the robber.”

“It doesn’t surprise me.” My police friends have been warning about the rise in crimes of opportunity. Times are tough. Budget cuts deplete patrols. Criminals are freed from prison. “The city feels a little like 1976.”

“Rome seven days after the Huns burn it down.” He was quoting my line from my book about punks. “You be careful.”

“I will.” With two kids in Thailand I have no interest in getting shot.

At least not over money.

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