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Red Hook, Brooklyn, in 1981. I'd only been in the US about six weeks when I got off the F train a couple stops too early on the way to meet friends in Park Slope one evening. As I walked in what I thought was the right direction, I noticed the neighborhood suddenly got a lot worse--broken glass on the sidewalk, a couple burned out cars--and I must've looked really out of place as I was wearing a business suit and a London Fog raincoat. I turned a corner and there was a group of about 30 guys just hanging out, which as it was mid-November around 9PM at night, wasn't a good sign. I found a liquor store, which was built like a fortress with bulletproof glass everywhere, and called my friends, who set out to get me. My friends came along after about 20 minutes, but they were the longest 20 minutes of my life.
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