In October 2015, in my second year of teaching in Los Angeles, I was living in a shady sketched neighborhood near the University of Southern California. I was relatively good at avoiding getting shot for the most part and avoiding any negative interactions with my neighbors.
That being said, somebody did get shot on my street one day. It was deemed so dangerous that when I tried to get home from work one fateful day, they told me the street was blocked off and I could not return for 10-15 hours. I was like, “WHAT THE HELL!? WHERE AM I SUPPOSED TO SLEEP!?” To avoid getting shot by the police myself though, I just went to my car and drove back home to Garden Grove where I slept peacefully at my parent’s place.
That was the closest to any danger I ever felt living in the area though. The end.
