Porta-Potty Pyro

Few and far between are the homeless in my Russian Hill neighborhood. Our clean streets welcome the European tourists with their maps and their impeccable posture. The crime rate in this part of the city rarely draws attention. Until recently.

Over the last four months we've seen a spike in crime. Not violent or indiscriminate crime mind you, that would cause an uproar in a district of the city that feels entitled to the safety of its sidewalks and well-lit piece of mind. This recent outbreak is not of crime overall, but a particular and peculiar brand of arson: porta-potty pyrotechnics.

The outrageous antics and the lack of suspects even garnered the interest of the New York Times. No details are known about infamous arsonist(s); if it is, indeed, a lone lighter, no one can say for sure.

The relative calm of the neighborhood at night leaves few people on the streets to bear witness to such flamboyant acts. Leaving only the hardened puddle of melted porta-potty-blue and the residual oder of burnt feces and plastic to remind the tourists, exercise fiends and stroller-pushing nannies of the atrocities that occur on the streets after the affluent retire to bed.