So...I live in Flatbush. Caribbean capital of Brooklyn.
I love Brooklyn. I really do. So much so that I forget... I let every year pass by until late spring when, just at the moment when I'm nestling into my covers after getting home from an 8 hour shift at work and a 1.5 hour commute home on a Saturday night, that I remember.
It begins with the undercurrent of bass that you can feel through the floorboards.
Then, the random, nonsensical mutterings of a sweaty deejay with his mouth pressed into a microphone.
This is followed by the shouts of drunken, surely scantily clad hoodrats stumbling in the stilettos they purchased at Rainbow during their last expedition to Fulton mall.
It never fails.
I will not get a wink of sleep any weekend until after Labor Day.
Man, I hate Flatbush in the summer.
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