My car was broken into a couple nights ago while I was house-sitting on the near west side of Cleveland. Thankfully, nothing was broken (the side door was forced) and as far as I can tell, nothing was taken either. Evidently no one wants my cassette tape collection and unlike one of my great-uncles, who used to keep $3000 in cash in the glove compartment of his red Chevy convertible with the top down, I had only a few spare pennies in my cupholders.
I thought I'd feel more violated but it's more of a "wow, I'm lucky" and a feeling of the inevitable. Given some of the places I end up, I'm amazed that more doesn't happen.
Some people told me I should get a CCW permit, but I'm neither a damn hippie or Ted Nugent, I just don't feel inclined to be a gun owner and I've never felt like my life has been threatened. Others said that I've finally seen the cold reality of life in this city and I'm this naive city kid who should flee for the exurbs where all the "good people" are instead of swimming in this cesspool. I don't have issues with the suburbs like some do, heck, I live in an inner-ring one myself, but the whole new houses named after things in nature that aren't there anymore never did it for me.
I am by no means convinced that there are more bad people within the city limits. There are more people for one thing, and in these times, more desperation. Maybe I've just gotten really lucky, but I've just met so many awesome people since I've moved back, and it made me remember why I wanted to fight so hard to stay. Someone rearranging the contents of my car in the wee hours of the morning isn't going to change that.