From The New York Shitty Inbox: Drag Racing Death On Provost?
Filed under: 11222, Criminal Activity, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic
First I must say thank you for keeping up such an excellent blog. This morning at around 11:30 am, (i know not quite morning) I finished packing up the uhaul and my girlfriend and I left Greenpoint for New Hampshire. You are probably thinking WHY? Well, to make a long story short… being the wonderful woman that she is, she came to NYC for Law School since I was here. Now that she has finished school and just completed the New Hampshire Bar, it was my turn to relocate. Anyway, I love your blog, and I am sure it will keep me updated about my favorite place in the world.
Second, I am not sure if you posted anything about this, but have you seen the smashed up car outside of the 94th precinct? its pretty crazy and smells like death. Today I found out why. My landlords brother came over to collect the keys to our place and he was on his phone when he got there talking about the detectives wanting to see the tapes from this weekend. He works at Europa and apparently some kid was drinking there, left and decided it was a good idea to race on Provost St. He wrapped his Acura around a tree doing 95 mph and died. (hence the death smell if you get close to the car.) Some more crazy driving in the Greenpoint. Be careful out there on your daily walks. Thanks for everything!
First up, thanks for the kind words anonymous. More importantly, has anyone heard anything about this? This is really scary— and sad.
Photo Credits: Sean Doyle Who apparently witnessed the aftermath of some serious rooftop partying gone wrong— as in the Superintendent mopping up the blood and “brain matter” from the sidewalk and building facade when one party-goer fell 5-6 floors to his death:
Things ’round here have been more than interesting. We pulled up stakes and moved out of Childrensburg, 11211, and into the lovely greenery and Nazi Runes of Little Warsaw, 11222. We’ve been over here since mid-July, and other than one really bizarre and terrible incident – it has been quite nice…
…A quieter hood for sure, but also a lack of disrespectful assholes surrounding us. This building is full of families and older Polish people. Hell, when we first moved in, everyone was eyeballing us, hoping we weren’t crazed Party People.
Then the party people started partying on his roof. That’s when it got interesting.
I decided to go out into the hallway, and let these kids know they just shouldn’t be up on the roof. It was bad enough that they were running around the halls, slamming doors and being loud as fuck. I wasn’t going to sit in here and listen to them stomping around over my head all night. I pay far too much rent for that shit.
As I walked out into the hall, a group of them were heading up the stairs to the roof. This is the exchange that followed, pretty much verbatim:
Me: “Hey. Hey! Y’all should not be up on that roof.”
Some random fuck of a kid: “Is there going to be a problem?”
Me: Cold stare.
Kid: “Are you serious? We shouldn’t be on the roof?”
Me: “Five stories is a long drop, ain’t it? There are families that live under the roof. Kids. Little ones. Please be respectful, or I won’t be.”
Some random drunk girl: “FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE. WE CAN DO WHAT WE WANT!”
Kid: “Look – we don’t want any trouble. We’ll get off the roof. Sorry.”
Me: A grin and a wink.
After that, I heard them all scurrying back down to the third floor, where the party was. I could hear them yelling in the apartment about “some asshole covered in tattoos made us get off the roof,” and I felt somewhat better about myself in that moment. They continued to be loud and ridiculous, and I continued to sit here, trying to get some Magical Work done.
I could hear them up on the roof again, maybe around 1:30AM. I figured I’d already said what I needed to, and kind of hoped that one of the older residents in the building would call the police soon, to break up the stupidity.
Around 1:45 or so I heard what sounded like the loudest slam of a door since my terrible teen years.
Less than ten minutes later, I could hear the police, admonishing kids left and right. I even pulled a total Old Man Move, and looked out the peephole in our front door, and could see cops walking kids down the stairs from the roof.
I felt pretty vindicated and went to sleep.
The next afternoon, after we had brunch with a friend, we came walking back over to the building and noticed a lot of our neighbors standing out front in a group, talking. As we walked up to them, we were informed that a 22 year old kid had fallen off the roof to his death.
I encourage each and every one of you, dear readers, to read this post in its entirety. Although I cannot verify Mr. Doyle’s story it makes for compelling reading.