We arrive in downtown Albany a few minutes later.
It’s hot at this time of the summer, and the heat is rising off the pavement as a clear haze, just like it does out in the desert. Not that I would know. The extent of my travels is the television, You Tube, and celebrity writer/chef, Anthony Bourdaine. Only, instead of a dust-covered road two-sided by endless sandy desert plains, the road is book-ended by worn out four and five-story brick and tin-sided buildings. Buildings that might have been new and sleek sixty or seventy years ago but that now, in the 21st century, have become dying relics of their former selves.
Kids—mostly black kids in their late teens or twenties dressed in baggy blue jean shorts that hang off their asses—roam the streets. I wonder how many are attempting to co
