Mr. Rodmans Neighborhood

My family and I have vacationed for three years in Dennis Rodman's neighborhood. This year, on July 10, we were relaxing on our vacation rental balcony when we noticed two Newport Beach bicycle policemen cruising up and down Seashore Drive, deliberately slowing down and nosing into Rodman's open garage. Later that afternoon, Rodman and a friend came out of the house and hopped into a convertible; Rodman went back into the house to get something as his friend started the car. The stereo from the car could be heard as the friend waited for Rodman to return, but not at a level beyond any of the other cars driving by that day. Not one minute went by before the bike police turned up, as if by magic, to issue a ticket for a noise violation. Rodman came out and was in disbelief—as were we and other neighbors—over the pettiness of the ticket. It must have been a slow day for the Newport Beach Police Department to have two officers spend a great deal of an afternoon patrolling Rodman's street. Could they have wanted to add another disturbance to Rodman's record and in the process issue a very unnecessary and pointed violation?

We've heard some of the parties going on in the infamous pink castle, but we've also heard those inside other homes and groups of teenagers having a good time at their beach homes. During our stay, we awoke one morning to a drunken man yelling racial slurs up and down Seashore Drive and Neptune Avenue—directed at Rodman. I find that kind of behavior much more disturbing and frightening than people playing music and having a good time together. If the police are going to crack down on Rodman, I think it's only fair that they issue tickets to all the other people who are entertaining their friends in the privacy of their own homes.