Quote:
Originally Posted by bobabode
Whoa! I grew up in Watts, LA. We were there through the whole '64 riot. We just stayed in the house and family friends stood guard. It was like touring a bombed out city in Europe afterwards. Dad packed us all up and we drove past miles and miles of burnt out buildings and homes.
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I was asleep in the back bedroom.
No one else was home.
I heard the sound of breaking glass towards the kitchen and figured one of my room mates had come home drunk and dropped a booze glass or something.
A little later I heard the sound of water gushing.
The fire in the kitchen had caused the water pipes in the attic to bust.
Then I smelled the smoke so I unassed the place out the back door.
I went next door and called the Fire Department.
It was really quite an adventure for a college kid.
And that kitchen needed a good fire.
It was filthy.
The grease on the walls and stove and refrigerator was so thick you could write notes in it. When you made toast you had to run the toaster twice. First you press it down and let it heat up without any bread in it. That was so the roaches would run out. Then the second time you'd put your bread in.
Looking back on those days, I can't believe I ever lived that way.