Have you ever smelled gunpowder, like the Fourth of July smell, hanging in the air, smoke still floating like a whispy ghost? Yeah, me neither. But all that changed literally five minutes ago.

The wrong side of town, you might ask. Or maybe some criminal types were loitering outside a liquor store? Perhaps it was something less sinister. Maybe someone got upset about that dude at work with gingivitis breathing on their Tesla. Fun fact: did you know that a Tesla will record what’s happening outside the car, up to several feet away from the vehicle? Breathing on it wrong would activate those cameras. I think. I don’t own one, so I couldn’t tell you from experience.

But whatever the offense was, I and everyone else witnessed it knew guns were drawn and fired. Thankfully, not one person was caught in the crossfire. On the other hand, the businesses in the vicinity weren’t so lucky. Between the Italian joint, the fast food burger place, a hit with the skaters and surfers, a frozen banana stand, and two competing delis, Eric’s and Jerimiah’s, the storefronts looked like a warzone. Shell casings littered the street. The smell of vulcanized rubber from the quick accelerating vehicles attempting to leave the scene as fast as possible mixed with the gunsmoke.

This beachfront area was complete with a pier, tons of seagulls, pelicans, and those giant seals you see in nature videos. My head was still reeling about the gunfire, which didn’t appear focused on any one of the businesses. In my professional opinion, as a kid who didn’t know better, I’d bet on the Italian restaurant. If I was a betting man. But I was a teenager, so what the hell did I know? But have you stopped to look at these guys hanging outside places like Gino’s? They make the Godfather movie gangsters look tame. These dudes are mean-looking, not to mention their stylish suits and shoes. All Italian, naturally. So, it made sense. A shoot-out wouldn’t have been uncommon. But here? On the beach? That wasn’t normal.

I opened the door to Juan’s, the frozen banana and ice cream parlor, talking to the owner, Ji-Yoon Park. Adults in the neighborhood called him Ji-Yoon. But the kids? Most of us tried to pronounce his name but botched it each and every time. So, to make it easier for teenagers and preteens, he told us to call him Mr. Park or Yee. Me? I preferred to call him by name, so Ji-Yoon always came out of my mouth.

“Good morning, Ji-Yoon.” I scanned the reader board even though I knew the menu hadn’t changed in twenty years. Ji-Yoon took over ownership of the shop in the late sixties. “Got anything new on the menu?”

“Oh, you funny boy! That is knee slapper, good one.” Ji-Yoon struggled with English after living in the United States for twenty-five years. Between his accent, failure to say certain letters, and inability to remember simple English grammar rules, such as using prepositions in sentences, kids and adults often laughed at him. Those without manners, that is. “What you want today?”

“I think a frozen banana,” I said, smirking.

“You want nuts on chooco banana?” Yi-Yoon winked, unable to pronounce chocolate. And the nuts joke? It was almost as old as the 57-year-old Korean man. His hair was whispy, gray, and receding fast. The hairs on his chin matched the whispy grays on his head, extending down four inches. He had a few missing teeth, but I wasn’t sure if that was from poor dental hygiene, too much sugar, or something else. I did catch him eating the products he sold when his wife, Soon-Lee, wasn’t in the store.

I pointed my finger at him, halfway winking and smiling. Shouts outside stopped our joking. A gesture and a shout at two olive-skinned men with jet-black hair, then gunfire. Yi-Yoon snatched me from in front of the ice cream freezers, forcing me to the ground. He covered my head with his icy fingers, keeping my ears covered. I heard glass shattering and breaking from the gunfire, then more shouts in a language that wasn’t English or Korean, squealing tires, crunching metal, and accelerating vehicles. It was four or five minutes later, sirens rang out.

Yi-Yoon looked at all the destruction, tears oozing from his eyes. He never made a sound, but I saw the tears.