Canadian Tuxedo Optional (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} michaelpop) wrote,@ 2008-03-06 09:17:00 |
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Breaking/entering.
February was kind of a rollercoaster. Lindsey visited twice, and those trips bookended a three-week span in which I was either suffering from the flu or pink eye. There was literally a one-day window in between illnesses where I was healthy enough to venture out of my apartment. So most of the month kind of sucked and I spent a lot of time laying on my couch, but fortunately I was malady-free by the time Lindsey arrived last Friday night and that's all that mattered.
I was a little tired that day thanks to being out extra late the night before watching British Sea Power (and getting my ear drums eviscerated in the process), but tired or not, I was totally pumped to see my girlfriend again. After I got home from work that day I tried squeezing in a power nap, but that was foiled because I was too excited to sleep. I took a shower which helped revive me, though, and I was looking and feeling pretty good at that point. When it was time to leave for the airport, I took one last glance at myself in the mirror, headed for the door, turned off my lights, locked the door, closed it, and then 1/1000th of a second later realized that I'd forgotten my keys.
Well, shit. I'd timed my departure so I'd be at the airport with plenty of time to spare in case I hit traffic, but I hadn't accounted for something like this happening. The thing is, this wouldn't have even been a problem had my apartment managers not moved to Montana a couple of months ago, leaving the other 11 tenants in my complex to fend for ourselves in times like this. If they'd been around all I'd have to do is walk upstairs to their apartment and ask them to let me in. This also wouldn't have been a problem if it were summer, because I most likely would've left a window open that I could climb through. In the four years I've lived there, I've locked myself out an average of once a year, and each time at least one of those options was available to me. But since it's February and all of my windows have been locked since November, I wasn't sure what to do. Time was ticking and panic started setting in so I tried my windows anyway, since I was fresh out of other ideas. I thought that maybe I'd be able to jiggle the window enough to loosen the little pin that serves as the lock. So I walked around to the back of my apartment building and stood in total darkness manhandling my window, trying to get it to open. I pushed and pounded on it a bit and the next thing I knew, shards of glass were raining down on top of me. Holy shit! I stood there for a few seconds, not quite believing what'd just happened. I'd broken my window! Next thing I know I hear this voice, but I'm not sure if it's coming from my upstairs neighbor or from the apartment building directly behind me. The voice said, "Hey bro, what's going on?" to which I replied nonchalantly, "Oh, nothing. I just locked myself out of my apartment and I'm trying to get back in." I was trying to act all casual even though I was seriously sweating. I didn't even try to look around to find the source of the voice, I just stared straight ahead and spoke calmly, as if breaking my window was all part of my plan and that I knew exactly what I was doing and had everything under control.
So there's glass everywhere -- in my hair, on my clothes, on the windowsill -- but at least now I could reach in and open my window. It took a few minutes to do a little housekeeping so I could climb through the open window without injuring myself on little pieces of glass, and once I was in, I went to the bathroom to wash myself off. A piece of glass knicked my forehead and my wrist and there was a little blood, but I was running too late to fetch a band aid.
Even through all of that, in the end, I managed to get to the airport with about 10 minutes to spare, so everything turned out fine. The next day I took my window to a glass place across the street and they installed a new piece of glass for $35. Thirty-five dollars! Dude, that's such a bargain! A locksmith would've cost at least twice that much! I don't know how they even stay in business when it's cheaper to just throw a rock through your window whenever you lock yourself out, but hey, keep that in mind, folks. The next time it happens to you, now you know.
But I think the best part was the following afternoon, about 19 hours after my break-in, when I heard an aggressive knock on my front door. It was a police officer who told me he was responding to a break-in report from the previous night. Okay, seriously, that's awesome that one of my neighbors (probably the "Hey bro" guy) was concerned enough about my suspicious activity to call the cops.But the cops showed up a day later? In the event of an actual break-in, all of my stuff would've already been up for sale in a back alley somewhere Downtown.*** (Okay, on the real, I don't really have anything worth stealing, which I suppose is one of the great underrated benefits of being poor. When Brett first moved out, there were times when I was a little worried about coming home to find my apartment burglarized, but then I realized that I don't have shit burglars want, so the joke would be on them.) So I explained what happened to the officer and he asked, "So did anyone get in?" and I said, "Yeah, I did." I wasn't trying to be smart, I was just answering the question. He accepted my story and didn't even ask for my ID or try to verify that I was who I said I was, but I gave him my name and phone number anyway, just to appear more legit.
[*** Actually, I ran into my next-door neighbor this morning and he asked about my window and I told him I'd taken care of it already. Then he told me how the cops had showed up that night and there were like 6 of them patrolling the courtyard and banging on my door. I had no idea! So good job, Covina Police Department! I've never felt so safe.]
February was kind of a rollercoaster. Lindsey visited twice, and those trips bookended a three-week span in which I was either suffering from the flu or pink eye. There was literally a one-day window in between illnesses where I was healthy enough to venture out of my apartment. So most of the month kind of sucked and I spent a lot of time laying on my couch, but fortunately I was malady-free by the time Lindsey arrived last Friday night and that's all that mattered.
I was a little tired that day thanks to being out extra late the night before watching British Sea Power (and getting my ear drums eviscerated in the process), but tired or not, I was totally pumped to see my girlfriend again. After I got home from work that day I tried squeezing in a power nap, but that was foiled because I was too excited to sleep. I took a shower which helped revive me, though, and I was looking and feeling pretty good at that point. When it was time to leave for the airport, I took one last glance at myself in the mirror, headed for the door, turned off my lights, locked the door, closed it, and then 1/1000th of a second later realized that I'd forgotten my keys.
Well, shit. I'd timed my departure so I'd be at the airport with plenty of time to spare in case I hit traffic, but I hadn't accounted for something like this happening. The thing is, this wouldn't have even been a problem had my apartment managers not moved to Montana a couple of months ago, leaving the other 11 tenants in my complex to fend for ourselves in times like this. If they'd been around all I'd have to do is walk upstairs to their apartment and ask them to let me in. This also wouldn't have been a problem if it were summer, because I most likely would've left a window open that I could climb through. In the four years I've lived there, I've locked myself out an average of once a year, and each time at least one of those options was available to me. But since it's February and all of my windows have been locked since November, I wasn't sure what to do. Time was ticking and panic started setting in so I tried my windows anyway, since I was fresh out of other ideas. I thought that maybe I'd be able to jiggle the window enough to loosen the little pin that serves as the lock. So I walked around to the back of my apartment building and stood in total darkness manhandling my window, trying to get it to open. I pushed and pounded on it a bit and the next thing I knew, shards of glass were raining down on top of me. Holy shit! I stood there for a few seconds, not quite believing what'd just happened. I'd broken my window! Next thing I know I hear this voice, but I'm not sure if it's coming from my upstairs neighbor or from the apartment building directly behind me. The voice said, "Hey bro, what's going on?" to which I replied nonchalantly, "Oh, nothing. I just locked myself out of my apartment and I'm trying to get back in." I was trying to act all casual even though I was seriously sweating. I didn't even try to look around to find the source of the voice, I just stared straight ahead and spoke calmly, as if breaking my window was all part of my plan and that I knew exactly what I was doing and had everything under control. So there's glass everywhere -- in my hair, on my clothes, on the windowsill -- but at least now I could reach in and open my window. It took a few minutes to do a little housekeeping so I could climb through the open window without injuring myself on little pieces of glass, and once I was in, I went to the bathroom to wash myself off. A piece of glass knicked my forehead and my wrist and there was a little blood, but I was running too late to fetch a band aid.
Even through all of that, in the end, I managed to get to the airport with about 10 minutes to spare, so everything turned out fine. The next day I took my window to a glass place across the street and they installed a new piece of glass for $35. Thirty-five dollars! Dude, that's such a bargain! A locksmith would've cost at least twice that much! I don't know how they even stay in business when it's cheaper to just throw a rock through your window whenever you lock yourself out, but hey, keep that in mind, folks. The next time it happens to you, now you know.
But I think the best part was the following afternoon, about 19 hours after my break-in, when I heard an aggressive knock on my front door. It was a police officer who told me he was responding to a break-in report from the previous night. Okay, seriously, that's awesome that one of my neighbors (probably the "Hey bro" guy) was concerned enough about my suspicious activity to call the cops.
[*** Actually, I ran into my next-door neighbor this morning and he asked about my window and I told him I'd taken care of it already. Then he told me how the cops had showed up that night and there were like 6 of them patrolling the courtyard and banging on my door. I had no idea! So good job, Covina Police Department! I've never felt so safe.]
