Protecting the Innocent
One day a few weeks ago, I was hiking home from the train and it was about 200 degrees out. I had this weird little blazer jacket thing on and I took it off and draped it on my bag for the long walk home. By the time I got home, I noticed it was missing. For some reason (latent anxiety?) I went into this huge panic about having to go find it. This was a $20 Target haute courture ensemble piece that I've only worn twice...the other time was on my trip to Flint, Michigan so maybe it had sentimental value.
Anyway, I go running to get in our Durango (another worthy blogpost someday...for the record, I used to drive a cute Jetta wagon) and somehow activate the car alarm. And it won't turn off. The horn is BLARING for like 20 minutes. Neighbors are coming out, Arturo is trying to get it to stop, little Andrew's running around the yard in his diaper, I'm on the cell phone trying to get help from the Dodge service guy. Arturo unhooked the battery and finally got it to stop. Then we realized that our theft system has some kind of feature where if you try to disarm the alarm too many times, it shuts down all systems for 4 hours. When we finally got the car started, it ran out of gas before we could pull out of the driveway. To look for my jacket. Arturo failed to see the humor in this and cuss words poured out of him like some deranged Desi Arnez.
About a week later, I was walking home from the train again, chatting with a nice woman that I didn't know. All of a sudden, I see it out of the corner of my eye, hanging from a dead scrub brush, next to the freight train tracks by the old flour mills where the crackheads sleep. There was also a few socks and a flip-flop. My eyes light up and I run over and grab it like it's Old Fashion Bargain days at Dayton's. The woman I'm talking to looks at me in horror...seriously. The look on her face was priceless. I sort of try to tell her the story, but she crosses the street as soon as we get to the corner. I shake off my recovered treasure and stuff it in my bag, trying to tell myself that I don't really feel a damp spot on it.
When i get home, I display it like a trophy before I tie it up in a plastic bag and throw it away.
Or maybe I put it in the dry-cleaning pile...I'll never tell.
Anyway, I go running to get in our Durango (another worthy blogpost someday...for the record, I used to drive a cute Jetta wagon) and somehow activate the car alarm. And it won't turn off. The horn is BLARING for like 20 minutes. Neighbors are coming out, Arturo is trying to get it to stop, little Andrew's running around the yard in his diaper, I'm on the cell phone trying to get help from the Dodge service guy. Arturo unhooked the battery and finally got it to stop. Then we realized that our theft system has some kind of feature where if you try to disarm the alarm too many times, it shuts down all systems for 4 hours. When we finally got the car started, it ran out of gas before we could pull out of the driveway. To look for my jacket. Arturo failed to see the humor in this and cuss words poured out of him like some deranged Desi Arnez.
About a week later, I was walking home from the train again, chatting with a nice woman that I didn't know. All of a sudden, I see it out of the corner of my eye, hanging from a dead scrub brush, next to the freight train tracks by the old flour mills where the crackheads sleep. There was also a few socks and a flip-flop. My eyes light up and I run over and grab it like it's Old Fashion Bargain days at Dayton's. The woman I'm talking to looks at me in horror...seriously. The look on her face was priceless. I sort of try to tell her the story, but she crosses the street as soon as we get to the corner. I shake off my recovered treasure and stuff it in my bag, trying to tell myself that I don't really feel a damp spot on it.
When i get home, I display it like a trophy before I tie it up in a plastic bag and throw it away.
Or maybe I put it in the dry-cleaning pile...I'll never tell.
posted by chris at 10:05 PM
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