Let's Take a Bite Out of Crime!

Yesterday was a beautiful, sunny Sunday and I'm walking along the very busy streets of Manhattan when I witness a crime.

Since it's so nice out, the sidewalks are crowded. And there are the usual many vendors hawking purses and bootleg DVDs and pictures of, like, Looney Tunes characters and President Obama, but then I notice one guy running a three-card monte table.

And I am shocked and appalled like grandma at a burlesque show. Believe it or not, I've never come across this in my six years of living in New York City. And I'm like, "Are you serious? In broad daylight? On 34th Street? Have you no decency? Are you crazy? Is this 1988? Did Giuliani never exist?"

What gets my goat is that three-card monte is CHEATING. It's a con. It's always a con. And that's not right.

Also, it worries me to witness this crime is done so blatantly. It makes me think of The Tipping Point and how this is yet another sign that the city is slipping down the slope to trouble (the main sign that worries me is the growing number of vacant shops in Manhattan).

Something must be done to stop this. For the good of the city.

My first thought is to fuck with the guy and expose him as a cheating, lying con (it's not too hard if you know the tricks of the game). Harry Anderson of Night Court fame used to do this in New Orleans, and as a result would get the shit kicked out of him.

But, unlike Harry Anderson, I have a strong streak of cowardice in me (also, no health insurance and I've got my brother's wedding next weekend so I can't show up with a busted face), and unlike the crazy boombox guy, this card dealer looks big enough, strong enough, and sane enough to give me a pounding... even on a crowded 34th Street.

So I do the next best thing: I call 311. This is one of two times I've had to do this since moving here (the first was when a crazy man took up residence at a bus stop), and, surprisingly, they quickly transfer me to 911 - who whoulda thunk illegal gambling constitutes an emergency?

I describe the guy and the location, can't ID any of his confederates (the table just got too crowded too quickly, so I couldn't pinpoint who was winning the games and who might be picking any pockets), and then wait.

Hand protectively clamped over my wallet, I pass by the table again. It's still going strong, HUGE crowd of people, and seriously, do any of them really believe this game is on the up and up? I cross the street to watch the cops bust this guy.

But they never show. 20 minutes later, the guy hustles off. He pats someone on the shoulder and disappears. I briefly think about tailing the guy, but what's the point? Also, I'm not Batman.

Very disappointing ending, and I head to the subway, paranoid that his confederates are gonna follow me and beat me up. Now I'm just paranoid that he's gonna read this blog and get me.

I hate everything.