2004-05-17 - 9:42 a.m.
If you've ever lived in the residential parts of the city, you know what fun the back alley is.
The back alley is where you and your friends run up and down while playing tag or war and you feel the backyard can't contain you.
The back alley is how you leave your house when you spot the kids you don't like across the street.
The back alley is where you go to park your car when you don't want to leave it on the curb out front. Or if you're an asshole, the back alley is what your car blocks off when you run into the house for five minutes.
The back alley is where you put your garbage cans. The back alley is likely where you'll make the most racket when drunk or fighting with someone.
The back alley has the shed where you store your bike, old car stereo components, or beer empties.
The back alley provides you with short cuts when you're in a rush or trying to get away from someone.
The back alley is the alternate escape route when the cops bust the house party.
The back alley is where you stumble over the sleeping/passed out homless/drunk person laying on the conrete outside your gate.
The back alley is where you go and spray paint tags to mark your turf (but never your own back alley).
The back alley is a treasure trove of garbage, empty liquor bottles, bird or rodent carcasses (from the cats), expended needles and used condoms. Sometimes, people leave couches or chairs out and you can sit on those and look at all the goodies.
The back alley is where you get trapped by the kids you don't like from school and they let you have it.
The back alley is the way by which you sneak into someone's house and get them back for beating you up.
The back alley is where your gang traps someone from another group of kids and does the same to him as he did to you.
But most importantly, the back alley is where you and your friends meet up and hang out. The back alley is where most of your crazy ideas will be hatched and most of your enemies will be assigned a fate.
I miss my back alley.
