16th and Mission, Hip vs Ho

Mission Loc@l watches the night watch at 16th and Mission.

The 2000 block awakes from its nap. The one-armed woman in the hot pink dress returns. She’s now with another man but darting five steps ahead of him, rendering him just as meaningless as the last guy. In the past couple hours, she’s turned from a buyer into a seller.

“Do you need anything?” she asks me.

I don’t.

“Why do you have a notepad?”

I’m a writer.

“Don’t write about the Mission. Everyone writes about the Mission. You need to pick a different topic if you ever want to be any good.” (Uh oh, Allan and I are screwed.)

And then she’s gone. In the last three hours she’s bought crack, sold crack, switched men and given a writer’s workshop. Just another night at 16th and Mission.