Park Slope Receives Much Deserved Street Cred

January 6th, 2008. Gunshots. Bomb squads. SWAT teams. Snipers on the roof. Police securing an entire city block.

Just another Sunday night in South Central Park Slope.

Yesterday around 7, my roommate Mike runs in to tell us that there are police everywhere outside. We throw on our jackets and head out to the stoop to find SWAT teams, armored trucks, uniformed officers, plainclothes officers, a hostage negotiation team and a bomb squad robot running up and down our block. An officer of the law advises us to go back inside, as we don't want to be there "when bullets start flying." Sure enough, about two minutes later, we hear a gunshot go off down the block.

Crispy Browne narrates a poorly lit video of a bomb squad robot

I have yet to find a report on this from the press, but from what I've gathered from what I saw and what local bloggers have reported, some drunken lunatic across the street got into an argument with his family, pulled out a gun and was threatening who knows what.

So for hours, Slopers hung out their windows and perched on their rooftops to catch a glimpse of the action. Unfortunately, there was very little action, and it was stretched out over damn near 8 hours. It went a little something like this:

Police and SWAT teams all over the place. An armored truck shows up. A bomb squad robot rolls up the slope. Police move closer to the house. Police move away from the house. The bomb squad robot moves down the slope. A bigger armored truck shows up. Police move closer to the house again. The bomb squad robot goes back.

Repeat until 4 am.

At midnight, when I had had enough and wanted to sleep, the police negotiator grabs the mic and starts rippin' shit up:

"Come on, Dave. Dave, just come to the window, Dave. Dave, everyone wants to talk to you. Everyone's here for you, Dave. Dave, come on. Be considerate to your neighbors, Dave."

Thanks to my trusty earplugs, I was able to sleep, but my girlfriend stayed up, springing from the bed every half hour to catch the next tidbit of action. Apparently, Dave decided to cut the shit around 4 am, when he came outside and was driven away in an ambulance. With no hostages.

No hostages. A bomb squad robot, SWAT teams, police negotiators, sharpshooters on the rooftops, an entire neighborhood disrupted... and no hostages. I'm not talking like I know what I'm talking about, but that seems a bit excessive.

The point is, I want some respect for my hood. Next time someone raps about Brooklyn and starts calling out Bed-Stuy, East New York, Brownsville, I want someone to throw a shout out the one-one-two-one-five, knaamean?

Park Slope, fool. What?!