“He Was Really Pissed Off”

Those vases are for floral arrangements you senile old coot:

Itomor Khaimov, 28, was near his home, walking his German shepherd Nona by the final resting place of his grandmother Sonya Khanukhova at Washington Cemetery in Bensonhurst.

As he approached the gravesite, he saw something ghastly

James Scott, 80, was relieving himself in a vase on Khanukhova’s grave, the Brooklyn man said.

Incredulous, Khaimov shouted, “What the f— are you doing?” at Scott, who was holding a rake.

“He said, ‘I’m urinating,’ and didn’t stop,” Khaimov told The Post yesterday.

“I started to cry and scream, ‘Do you realize this is my grandmother’s grave?'” Khaimov recounted. “He said, ‘I’m an old man, I can’t hold it.'”

Scott told Khaimov to “get out of there” but there was no stopping the grandson.

As Khaimov confronted him, Scott swung at him with the rake, hitting him on the head and causing a mild concussion, according to police sources.

“He took a big swing like he was holding bat — he was really pissed off,” said Khaimov. The young man went to nearby Maimonides Hospital where he was treated and released after the Nov. 1 incident. Then he called 911.

“This is supposed to be a calm place, a place for them to rest,” said Khaimov. After an investigation, cops arrested Scott on Tuesday and charged him with second-degree assault, menacing, and criminal possession of a weapon: the rake.

And With An Oddly Toothy Grin The Broker Smiled, “Dangerous? Why Would You Say That?”

Your first thought upon being mugged in that “up-and-coming” neighborhood you just moved to? “Damn brokers”:

I’m sitting in a windowless room in a back annex of Precinct 77 holding a frozen bag of peas to the base of my skull. There’s no ice at Precinct 77. Florescent bulbs cast flickering light on the cinderblock walls and scuffed linoleum while I look over a police officer’s shoulder at six faces on a dim computer screen — all unhappy black men. Having just been beaten and robbed outside of my apartment, I’m scanning mugshots for the five or six attackers. It’s an exercise in futility; by the time I realized I was being mugged, all I could see was the sidewalk. The officers who picked me up said that people’s belongings rarely turn up, whether they catch the thieves or not. In fact, they’re surprised I’d even stayed to look at mugshots; most people in my situation just accept their fate and move on.

. . .

[Crown Heights] has undergone a . . . miraculous change, as Brooklyn real estate agents never fail to mention. Crime is down and renters are getting a steal. Far from the powder keg of years past, it’s officially up-and-coming and a stone’s throw from Prospect Park. A 2004 New York Times article dubbed Crown Heights a “hidden jewel,” and the accepted wisdom is that you should grab real estate in the borough while you still can.

This is the sentiment echoed by Ruby Allen, a Coldwell Banker real estate agent who has worked in the area for years. When I ask her if she considers it dangerous, she was shocked at the suggestion.

“Dangerous? Why would you say that?” she asks. “I don’t think so.”

But I’m not alone in my presupposition of danger. Crown Heights and its irritable neighbor to the north, Bedford-Stuyvesant — frequently — top the shortlist of areas to avoid at night. But Ms. Allen’s view remains unfalteringly rosy.

“I’ve spent a lifetime in those areas, and they’re OK,” she says. “You’re going to have problems here and there, but it’s not uncommon to what’s going on in other areas.”

Which is to say that this week’s issue is perhaps not the best place for Brian Carter to be singing the virtues of the biz:

Before becoming a real estate agent, I had never worked in sales before (unless you count up-selling vodka). The extent of my training consisted of learning a few buildings, taking some pictures, posting ads and then answering the phone. A week after completing my licensing exam, I was explaining to an Indian couple why that particular unit was such a smart move. They didn’t take the apartment, but I left there feeling pretty lit up.

I calculated what my fee would have been had they taken the apartment and then immediately began devising ways in which I could have forced them into it. I’m joking of course, but I was motivated. “Holy shit,” I thought, “the playbook is like twice the size of the rule book.”

. . .

From scheduling to attire to how exactly you gain entrance to a vacant apartment, the truth is there are very few rules. Even the ways in which you manage to convince an otherwise rational human being that a 550-square-foot one bedroom apartment is worth every penny of $3500 is really not a matter of concern. If they sign the lease, the checks all clear and no lawsuits are filed, you did your job successfully.

So yeah, I admit it, I sort of like being a rental agent. Like politics, you are going to have to get your hands a little dirty if you are going to get anywhere in this business. And in this equally flawed and overbearing country of ours, the moment I stop liking it, I can always try some other way of making a living. I could even trade my balls in for a corporate job and a dental plan, but that’s another great thing about real estate: You don’t need great teeth.

(BC, we kid because we love!)

Either Small Planes Are Too Dangerous Or Our Parks Are Too Underutilized

Fortunately, no one actually uses Brooklyn’s Dreier-Offerman Park:

His small plane sputtering in the skies above Brooklyn, a New Jersey pilot played Capt. Cool yesterday and landed the Cessna right smack in the middle of a city park.

“It was a walk in the park,” Paul Dudley said after calmly guiding the faltering single-engine plane onto a field at Drier Offerman Park in Gravesend.

“This was tailor-made,” the 51-year-old pilot said. “I couldn’t have asked for a better place to land — except an airport.”

. . .

Police said no one was hurt in what Dudley, the director of the Linden Municipal Airport in New Jersey, shrugged off as a “big nothing.”

Frightened local residents said they saw the plane putt-putting low over the tops of buildings just across a creek from Coney Island.

“It sounded like he was in trouble — I thought it would crash,” said Ida DeGorter, who works at a local bus depot. “It came right over the garage. It came so low, we could see the pilot.”

Federal Aviation Administration officials will investigate the cause of the emergency landing.

Dudley, who has houses in the Hamptons and Staten Island, was flying the 28-year-old Cessna alone from Westhampton, L.I., to Linden when the engine started giving out as he neared Coney Island.

Instead of continuing across New York Harbor, he searched for a safe place to land.

“I didn’t want to risk taking it across the water,” he said. “I saw this open field of grass and decided to land it.”

Dudley touched down near several soccer fields and skidded to a halt after rolling about 150 feet.

Come See Our Shiny New $1.1 Million Bathroom!

I know a $1.1 million bathroom is like a $400 ashtray, but it’s still a $1.1 million bathroom:

To make our own ceremonial first flush, The Brooklyn Papers sent its top cub reporter to seek comfort in the so-called “comfort station.” After a brief campaign of shock and awe, he declared it a mission accomplished.

Refurbished with a wheelchair ramp and a ventilation system that keeps the air warm and fresh on a cold day, this is one state-of-the-art outhouse.

The structure’s stately brick gives it a Colonial feel, and the natural glow from the skylight adds a nice modern touch.

In fact, it’s such a pleasant comfort station that visitors have been known to seek a lot of comfort. One man, for example, stayed in one of the two stalls for roughly 45 minutes (yes, it’s that clean a bathroom).

He finally came out with a strong endorsement.

“It’s beautiful in there,” he said. “Thank God.”

No, thank City Councilman Vince Gentile (D-Bay Ridge), who pushed the Parks Department to finally finish the $1.1-million project after two years of contractor bungling.

All of which serves as a useful reminder to the Parks Department PR machine that some things are better left unpimped.

300 Jobs And Several Crazy Welsh Engineers Later, Red Hook Is Booming

How was the first season of cruise ships docking at Red Hook go? Pretty good, I’d say:

Even if the terminal hasn’t transformed Red Hook into a gleaming tourist attraction, there have been some small victories, local say.

“We got a crowd of crazy Welsh engineers every nine days when the Crown Princess [another ship that calls Brooklyn home] came in,” said Audrey Reynolds, a bartender at the Bait and Tackle bar, one block from the terminal.

“They drink a lot and get super-messed up, but it’s good for the bar.”

And to think that people were worried!