Living la vida loca??

aka living on the edge of downtown. So interesting. So convenient. Most of the time. I've been here about 2 1/2 yrs now, and you'd think I'd get used to the city night noises.

For the purpose of today's story, it doesn't matter that I am a light sleeper. If the whole west side of my apt building wasn't woken at 430am by today? tonight's drama, then they sleep so deeply and heavily that it puts them in mortal danger.

I wish I had Crazy Aunt Purl's glib tongue to tell the tale.

It's been wicked hot here in D-town. So I sleep with the balcony door WIDE open. Balcony door is never locked anyway, b/c anyone who's dedicated enough to their burgulary skills to do a spiderman crawl up to my floor must need my shit more than I do. I fell asleep around 230am... a nice peacful slumber tonight. No sirens wailing from the fire station at Colfax and Speer (i'm at 13th and speer). No bar fights from across the street. No loud drunken arguments at the projects next door (these brawls are regulary scheduled for either Friday or Saturday nights).

I wake up to "Stick your hands up in the air" being shouted over a megaphone into my apartment. "Stick your hands up next to the window." The megaphone sounded like it was right next to my ear. The cats bounded off the bed, running for their lives b/c apparently mommy is some criminal. The other thought is that I've been tempting the fates far too long by saying that if anyone wanted my shit badly enough to do the Spidey to my floor, a locked balcony door wasn't gonna stop them...
I carefully peered out my bedroom window (as I raise my hands up in the air), and to my sort of relief, find 4 cop cars surrounding a huge Dodge double cab truck that is on the parking structure next door. Whew. It's not me they're after!

The next 30 minutes are spent watching a live episode of "bad boys bad boys...whatcha gonna do? whatcha gonna do when they come for you!" I watch the P-Os carefully extricate the two people out of the truck, have them lay spread eagle on the floor, and cuff them. Rifles are present. A thorough searching of the truck. (where's the canine cops? c'mon...liven up the show for me here!). The sad sad security guard pulls up in his little tonka toy SUV car, sidles over to the P-Os to say "what's up my brothas?" They barely acknowledge him (ooh, DISS!) and shoo him away. 15 minutes after that, they all file into their police cars, one PO driving the arrested suspect's beloved tricked out truck (with low riding wide wheels and all), off and away. Leaving me wide awake with questions.

Ahhh...the joys of living downtown.