Friday, November 19, 2004

bad boys, bad boys... 

So let me start off by saying that I do NOT live in the ghetto. Well, not really. Not like crime is a daily occurance outside my door. There have been a couple of incidents since I moved into my condo 4 years ago, mostly involving stupid punk-ass kids, but that's about it.

Last night around...oh...12:30am or so, I was watching TV and playing around on the internet, thinking I should be getting to bed, when I heard sirens. Not so unusual, as the street my complex is on empties out onto a fairly busy road. But instead of fading to the distance as usual, they got louder, and louder...very very loud. I jumped up and ran to my door. There were 5 or 6 police cars pulling over near the mailboxes at the entrance to the complex. There also, confusingly enough, seemed to be a car that went off the road and into the woods opposite the mailbox...the woods that my unit faces. I figured that the sirens would wake up Kevin, so I went to tell him what was going on. Yeah, he heard the sirens in his sleep, but after I told him, he rolled over and went back to sleep.

I decided to park it near the windows, cracking one open so I could hear what was going on. I could hear voices, as the sirens had been silence, though their lights were still flashing. A few minutes later, I could hear another noice.

wuppa wuppa wuppa wuppa

A helicopter was hovering above the trees, with a searchlight. And faintly, I could hear a voice saying "...he's wearing a white shirt, and black and red pants..."

Oh shit. Time to really wake up Kevin. If there's some guy running from police out there, I want him awake...and his gun within reach.

Yeah, Kevin's got a handgun. For those of you who are surprised, let me remind you that Kevin is from Alabama, where I'm pretty sure they give you a gun and a truck on your 12th birthday. Guns don't bother me a whole lot - I grew up in a family of hunters. My dad kept his hunting rifles at my grandmother's house, so we never had any guns in our house. But in situations like this, it's comforting to know that I live with a very big, strong, overprotective man who's packin'.

So Kevin, bless his heart, sat up with me, bleary eyed, for the next few hours. Eventually the chopper left, and all but one of the police cars drove away. A tow truck showed up, to pull out the car that had driven into the trees. I decided to take quick walk out the front of the building, to see if any of my neighbors were out and knew what was going on. Nothing.

We went to bed a little after 3. Poor Kev was a little late getting out this morning, and he's been swamped at work. But I'm glad he indulged my paranoia. This morning I drove past the crushed bushes where the car drove through. I haven't heard or seen any news that talk about what happened. Hopefully, the flyer-happy people at my complex will post something.

So...who wants to visit me in Atlanta now, huh? Sing it with me...in the ghettooooo.....(falsetto) in the ghettoooooooo.