Puerto Rican Paranoia

Editor's note: The following column was supposed to have been posted last Saturday. When phone calls proved futile, we decided to visit Noel at his place of residence. We found the writer passed out over his laptop computer. Later, we learned he had ingested sedatives after confusing them for vitamins. We were forced to transcribe his handwritten first draft in order to comply with deadlines. Noel's columns will continue to appear in LaAcera.com on a regular basis; we have complete faith in him and his journalistic exploits.

You know that feeling you get when it's past midnight and you're walking in the wrong part of town? You're heading to your car in a quiet, but steady pace, and the alcohol in your bloodstream is not nearly enough to make you lower your guard just a bit? You just want to pull out your cell phone and make a booty call, but you worry it'll draw unwanted attention. You know what I'm talking about, only it's become such an inherent part of your life, you've come to disregard its very presence. We call it paranoia: excessive suspicion or distrust.

I know what you're thinking: "This guy must be doing drugs, that's why he's paranoid". No, although I will admit I have nothing against recreational drug use. Besides, paranoia is total awareness, and it's this very same awareness that gives us a sense of otherness when we find ourselves in some European countries and we can't really fathom how these people walk around so late at night without looking over their shoulder every three seconds.

I first became aware of it in Madrid. I was walking alone down a street to my brother's apartment sometime after 4am. Some guy was walking behind me a little too close for comfort. He had the whole sidewalk on the other side to himself, but he chose to walk on my tail. I grew uncomfortable to the point that, in my inebriated state, I promptly asked "What are you doing?" He gave me a stunned look, shrugged and continued walking while I stood there; it was only my second night in Spain. I now consider that fuck-up in the same league as trying to impress a girl with your knowledge of Pink Floyd, thinking it's a guy and not a band.

Excuse me... I digress. The point I was trying to make is the following: only when you step out of our precious island, which is nearing 1000 murders in 2009, do you properly realize how much our crime rate has become part of your social unconscious. Now, all bullshit aside, I recognize how someone could read these words and accuse me of being an elitist. For all intended purposes, such an accusation could be a fair assessment - but whenever the weekend comes and I constantly fear for the safety of those close to me, I could give a shit about begin called elitist.

Are we really the product of our environment? Not necessarily. In fact, I challenge the truth behind such a statement. To quote Robert Kennedy: "I think we can do better". Things can be changed, things can be better. The problem is that most people lack the vision to even conceive of such an idea. Dare to see things under a different light. Dare to break the mold and shatter conformism. Dare to acquire and uphold a new perception - one that speaks to you as an individual, and to us as a society.