They Shoot Cyclists, Don't They?

So guess what I got hit with tonight?

A bullet.

That's right, a bullet. I was bicycling on Ashland between Chicago and Divison--which is a main thoroughfare in my neighborhood--when I heard what I thought were firecrackers. I felt a 'ping' as something small hit the back of my head under my helmet. Stopping to take it out of my hair, I thought it was just a piece of gravel until I noticed it was a bunched-up piece of metal. Part of a bullet or part of a shell casing.

Luckily I was right next to a fire station, so the fireman had me come over and checked out my head to make sure I wasn't bleeding. An old lady had stopped as well--she'd felt something whizz by her feet as another bullet ricocheted by. I was anxious to get to the bar where I was meeting a friend, so turned down the firemen's offer of taking me to the hospital. I wasn't hurt, just a bit stunned. And shocked that the firemen didn't seem more concerned that people had been shooting guns 20 feet away from the fire station. "I wonder what they were shooting at?" one casually asked.

Well, I don't know--and I frankly don't care. I'm just glad that they weren't aiming at me. A few years ago one of my friends was biking home in Humbolt Park (aka Little Puerto Rico) when someone started taking pot shots at her.

Ah, life in Chicago... Now I've been hit by two cars AND a bullet!