October 6, 2009

I just asked CLM if she wanted to go to Coldstone for ice cream and she declined (that’s not newsworthy, women reject me all the time). She said she couldn’t because she’s moving.

I assume she means packing, because it was 9:15 at night. And you don’t move at 9:15 at night. That’s how you end up explaining things to the police. Trust me. I’m the voice of experience on this one.

When I was in Dayton, I moved from one apartment in a complex to another. And I moved on an October evening in the fall. The A’s and Yankees were playing in the ALDS that night and I was carrying loads of things from one apartment to the other between innings. Needless to say, I soon had a flashlight in my face because someone called the police.

Looking back, I saw that flashlight a lot in Dayton, and it’s kind of funny that I’d have the police all in my face in Ohio about half a dozen times, and exactly none since moving to MurderOrleans. That instance in Ohio was the first of I believe five times someone called the police on me:

The second, I got a new car stereo for my birthday and was attempting the install myself. I was on a tight schedule because I was driving to New York in the morning and wanted to have tunes for the ride. So there I was, popping out a car stereo at 12:30 am.

The third time, I was sitting on my porch smoking a cigar at around 11, the night my neice was born. When a cop approached because there was an attempted break in somewhere in the complex, and the victim said “they went that way.” The cop questioned me breifly, but left me alone when I asked “was the perpetrator smoking a $26 Davidoff R-Series Churchill Cigar?”

The cop said “I don’ believe so no.”
I said “This is a $32 cigar. Which should be only smoked when celebrating new members of the family. There could have been a pile of Plasma TVs in the middle of the parking lot, and I’m wouldn’t put this thing down.”

Number four was probably the silliest. I was at my friend’s house and we were talking about baseball and how we loved hitting. Needless to say, we were standing over his coffee table pantomiming our swings. He noticed my lefty swing and my righty swing were different. I didn’t know they were. So he asked if I ever swung in front of a mirror. After driving home, I was smoking a cigar, and standing outside my window, looking at the reflection, swinging from each side of the plate to see a difference (my lefty swing was dropping the back elbow A LOT). And someone called the police because they thought I was going to break in.
I told the officer “If I was going to break in, I’d have done it by now. I’m just looking at my swing in the window.”
I don’t know if he would have believed me, but the batting gloves might have helped.

And there was one more time, where the cops came to my door to tell me that someone had broken into my car. They apprehended two teenagers who went down a row of cars in the parking lot taking all the change and CDs, in the grocery store 50 yards away, dumping their haul into the coin star. I was irate because to take my CDs, they snapped off my visor instead of removing the CDs individually or taking the CD holder. The CDs were all MP3 discs (and a lot of gospel). I’d have let them have them if they wanted them.

I’m pretty sure that any of those activities in New Orleans wouldn’t make a single person bat an eyelash, let alone call the cops. As Renny from Big Brother 10 said: “Honey, I’m from New Orleans. I see people dressed like aliens every day.”