By Rob Holbert Managing Editor

It was New Year’s Eve and I stepped out onto the front lawn to enjoy the last of my 12th bottle of beer and fire off a few rounds from my 9-mm pistol. I live in the part of town where it is apparently legal to fire weapons into the air to celebrate the arrival of the New Year, an Alabama football victory or the successful scoring of a bag of crystal meth and a hooker to share it with.

So I take advantage. (The shooting. Not the hookers and meth.)

There I was popping off round after round, when my new neighbor walked out on his porch screaming for me to stop. “Have you lost your mind?” he asked. I think it was a rhetorical question, so I didn’t answer. “That’s not only illegal, but it’s completely stupid! At this very second, those bullets are hurtling back toward Earth. They could even plunge through your roof and hit your wife or kids, idiot!”

My respect for someone bold enough to talk like that to a drunk holding a pistol not withstanding, I couldn’t help shaking my head and chuckling. “Sorry to tell you this pal, but here in the OGD, shooting guns into the air isn’t even remotely illegal. Just listen,” I said. The silence was quickly filled in with the sound of thousands of rounds being pumped skyward.

“See?” I said. “If it was illegal, wouldn’t the police do something about it?”

My new neighbor seemed perplexed. Maybe it was just because I had casually shot a clay planter in his front yard, but I like to think it’s because my logic had gotten his wheels spinning.

“But I saw news stories about the police having a ‘zero tolerance’ policy for shooting New Year’s Eve,” he stammered.

“Oh, I see… You still actually believe the city cares about or has some sort of plan for controlling celebratory gunfire,” I said. (I must admit, I kind of slurred “celebratory,” but I think he knew what I meant.) “I used to think that too when I first moved down here. The cops talk tough every year, but I haven’t heard of them arresting a single person for shooting in the seven years I’ve lived here. Maybe they’ll haul a few folks in this year, but it’ll just be enough to make it look like they’re doing something. I saw Chief Cochran on TV the other night talking about arresting people for putting their trash out too early, too. I’m sure the city jail’s going to be jammed pretty soon with people who shot their guns on New Year’s or put their rubbish out too early.”

I could see my neighbor was flummoxed by the seeming illogic of a city ignoring hundreds of its citizens firing thousands of rounds into the sky each New Year’s Eve. Since I was once like him, I decided to show my neighbor the light.

“C’mon, let me prove to you just how ‘illegal’ it is to shoot guns in this part of town,” I said. We headed into my neighbor’s house, and I handed him the phone. “Call 911,” I said. “Tell them people are shooting guns.”

He dutifully did what I said, probably because I was still holding a pistol and a beer. Though I could only hear his side of the conversation, I could tell it wasn’t going well. “Yes, I want to report hundreds of incidents of gunfire in the Oakleigh Garden District,” my neighbor said. “No, I don’t have an exact address. It’s happening all over the place. In fact, it’s been happening since nightfall. No, I can’t give you an approximate location. Just have your officers drive around. They’ll hear it, too!” He hung up exasperated.

“See?” I said. “They don’t seem all that interested, do they?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Did they say they were sending a car?”

“Not really.”

“Don’t you think if it were really illegal to shoot guns into the air, they’d already have cars in the neighborhood at midnight?”

“I guess so,” my neighbor said looking defeated. I could see the pride in his neighborhood diminishing by the second. I knew I had to act fast.

“Aw don’t get so down about it. It’s not like it’s Dodge City or Prichard every night of the year. The rest of the year the cops will come running if you call about gunshots. I guess they just don’t think it’s a good idea to confront a large crowd of heavily armed folks who very likely have been drinking all evening. It makes sense. Besides, there are some positives.”

“Like what?” my sullen neighbor asked.

“Well, for one you never, ever have to host a New Year’s Eve party and pop for all the booze and chicken fingers, because everyone’s scared to come down here. They think they’ll get hit by falling bullets. And they’re probably right.”

“That’s kind of encouraging.”

“You bet. And then there’s also all the free lead you can find in the yard the next day. You can melt it down and make cool paperweights or other trinkets for the house,” I explained.

My neighbor perked up a bit. I could see he was warming up to the realities of Mobile’s favorite New Year’s tradition.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get back out in the yard and get to shooting. We’ve only got a few more minutes before it becomes illegal again.”

Rob Holbert is Lagniappe managing editor. Contact him at rholbert@lagniappemobile.com.

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