Willets Point, Queens

When a visitor enters the Willets Point district of Queens in New York, taste and smell are the first senses to be assaulted. Dirt is blown into even the most tightly clenched mouth and, after the fumes hit, and even the most dainty start spitting. A date with the shower and the laundry are assured
In an increasingly tourist-friendly city, Willets Point is a throwback, but one that evinces no hint of nostalgia. The area is a seemingly endless tangle of auto repair businesses, each focused on a very specific part of the car—frame straightening, cooling systems, pimped-out wheels, mufflers. There’s also a solid waste processing plant and Laxmi's House of Spices.
Like any throwback, Willets Point is under attack by the forces of modernization and gentrification. Nearby Flushing is bursting at the seams, and Willets Point is directly in the path of its expansion. The first shoots—office towers and condos—can already be seen to the East. But that's just a taste of what's to come: The New York City Economic Development Corporation wants to build $3 billion worth of malls, condos, and hotels where corrugated steel shanties stand today.
The development is tied up in court, but this underdog doesn’t have much of a chance. Popular support is scarce; Willets Point is a tough neighborhood to love. The area isn’t even connected to the City's sewage system, so the shops have no toilets for the employees or anyone else.
The workers at these establishments are almost universally Latino and almost universally hostile to outsiders. Trust is a precious commodity in a place where many of the workers have troubles with the law, immigration often being the least of them.
Still, an unmistakeable air of pride and machismo pervades Willets Point. This may be hell, but it’s their slice of hell, so the workers press their overalls, keep their name tags bright, and their hair styled into wind-defying pompadours. They decorate the environs with environmental sculpture that shout pride of place. Their attitude defies their surroundings.
Spend a little time on the grounds, and the workers start to open up. These confidences start with the expected--business sucks, the City is screwing them, the cops keep hassling them. After a while, though, they acknowledge the inevitable and start to talk about their backup plans, most of which seem tinged with fantasy: I’ll go into my brother's real estate business in Florida. My comrades from Delta Force will help me out. Maybe the City will stop the developers.
Buena suerte, mi amigos.