An OLD YORKSHIREMAN IN NEW YORK. (7) An incident on Flushing Ave.

It happened last evening, around 6.30. Matthew was waiting on tables,
there were just a few customers in the restaurant, a couple of whom I was chatting with were sat at the bar.
Then Matthew exclaimed loudly, “Oh my God, Oh my God!” I looked up at him as did the others. He was staring wide-eyed out of the window to the street outside.
By the amazed look on his face, an alien spaceship might have been landing on Flushing Avenue right outside.
I turned to look; no alien spacecraft- but there were cops, loads of them, running in one direction along the middle of the road.
The café quickly decanted onto the sidewalk. The cops, both women and men, were chasing one young black guy. He was hightailing down the center of the road, uniforms in pursuit. One of whom tripped over the curb and fell on his face. There must have been at least thirty police, why so many for this one kid?
The young guy was cut off and he was collared. By now the traffic on the street was at a standstill. Groups of onlookers stood on the sidewalk gawping at the scene which for all the world looked like it had been produced for a movie.
A small group of policemen caught my eye, they weren’t moving. Instead they stood still in the middle of the road right in front of us. I looked down to the road as they did. There beneath a police-boot was a handgun, it had a silver barrel and a black handle. That’s why there were so many cops, the guy must have been running down the road chasing someone with the gun or maybe he’d escaped from the scene of a crime. A call must have been put out on the police radio. Maybe the guy had thrown down the gun when he realized what would happen if he used it.
Then he was bundled into a police-car, which took off with all lights flashing. The cop with his boot on the gun picked it up with a handkerchief and carried it over to another police car.
Then the police started to leave the scene. Just a few stayed on for a little while to get the traffic rolling again. People like us on the sidewalks exchanged excited chatter and wide-eyed looks as possible scenarios for what we’d witnessed buzzed between us. Then the traffic began flowing, our customers returned to their drinks and food inside. I climbed back on my stool at the bar. A new song came on the sound system and the Dave the food delivery guy returned and chained up his bike outside unaware of the drama which had unfolded whilst he was gone.

An OLD YORKSHIREMAN IN NEW YORK. (7) An incident on Flushing Ave.

John Sunderland

New York, United States

  • Artist
    Notes

Artist's Description

An incident on a Brooklyn street unfolds like a scene from a movie.

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gun cops

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