Member-only story
Getting woke up by cops with guns in their hands isn’t funny at all
After my dad died, my uncle and I needed a new place to live. We couldn’t afford two mortgages, much less the taxes and utility bills for a three bedroom, two-bath house, on a security guard’s pay and a retired plumber’s pension.
We looked at a few apartments, not many would accept cats, and the complexes we could afford were seedy and trashy. We decided to look at trailer parks. To make matters worse, I was running out of my dad’s money, and the Lenders wanted their mortgage payments for some reason.
I bought the second trailer we looked at. We placed most of the stuff in my dad’s house in storage, and moved in over a long two days. Right off the bat, we knew we were in a different world.
The first thing I noticed; everyone knows your business in a trailer park. I could hear the arguments in my bedroom, and people spent most of their time sitting on lawn chairs on their carports drinking beer and getting high.
The park had two pools, I used to love being by any type of water, soaking up the rays.
I was amused the first time I went to the pool. I was the only one there without a tattoo, I bet most of the people swimming and soaking up rays had more tattoos than teeth.
