I am reading a book. And I want to know if it is really like this in NJ.

A splot of some noxious substance sliding down the front of my door
caught my eye. I was pretty sure it wasn't tapioca. I gagged, closed the
door, and locked and chained it. Wonderful. Two days on the job and a
world-class psycho had just jerked off on my door.

Things like this had never happened to me when I'd worked for E.E.
Martin. Once a street person had urinated on my foot, and every now and
then a man would drop his pants in the train station, but these were
things you expected when you worked in Newark. I'd learned not to take
them personally. This business with Ramirez was a whole other matter.
This was very scary.


--
Is that your nose, or are you eatting a banana? -Jimmy Durante