But, I live in RB!
So over the weekend we had a little issue here at the ol' homestead. 911 was called, a lot of good that did.
So let's set the stage. Our neighbors two condos down from us are a lovely couple. Always quick with a smile and a wave when we saw them during the day. A couple of weeks ago a young man moved in with them with his child. From that point things started going south. I began smelling marijuana, and quickly identified the source, this same young man sitting in the garage nursing a bright pink bong.
And that friends, was the best development! Soon his smoking gave way to walking around and yelling. Sometimes into a phone, sometimes at no identifiable source. These outbursts routinely happened during the day, so while they were annoying, it wasn't really concerning. On Friday around 10:00 pm that all changed.
The shouting began in earnest, and most distressingly he started walking around and screaming in the immediate vicinity of my children's rooms. I tried to give him time to calm down, not wanting to escalate things further, but it became clear that he wasn't going to stop on his own. So I went outside to hopefully get him to move his insanity down the road, as it were.
For those reading this who might not know anything about me, I am a 6 foot 1, 280 pound man with at the time, a beard 7 inches or so long. And I was pissed. In moments like that, I am told I am quiet intimidating. I try to use that presence to peacefully diffuse situations.
After 10 minutes of me standing by my door under the harsh glow of the security lights, the gentleman in question said something idiotic to me, and then left. I considered the matter closed, and went back into the house to calm my wife down. I was immediately greeted with her, holding my Louisville Slugger, flame tempered bat.
Where I might be scary looking, I am mostly harmless. Mostly. My wife on the other hand. She'll knock your lights out. Straight up no questions asked. I love her so much. But I digress.
So we settle down to a hopefully quiet rest of our evening. Things are going well for about 20 minutes. Then the shouting begins again. Followed by banging and the sound of things breaking. At this point I have two options.
- Go out with the aforementioned bat and encourage him to leave. With vigor.
- Call the police and have them hopefully do their job and nothing else.
After talking to my wife we opted for #2.
And please understand, I didn't make the decision to involve the police lightly. With the stories in the news today illustrating how badly involving the police could go, coupled with the obvious fact that he was under the influence of some drug I agonized over the decision. But my children were going to be awoken, scared and out of sorts. At that point the decision was made for me.
You would think at this point the story would go one of two ways. Either the police showed up and performed their job with honor and restraint, defusing the situation; or they showed up and a tableau of police brutality would unfold before us.
Interestingly enough, there was a third option. I would call the police number, since it was a non-emergency and wait for 10 minutes on the phone for an office to pick up. Then, fearing the worst, we called 911. You know, for emergencies. The dispatcher connected us to our police post, and then we waiting on hold for 15 minutes before someone answered.
The absurdity of the situation was really difficult to deal with. We called 911, the emergency number and by the time someone picked up, we would have been dead had their been a life threatening emergency. We live in Rancho Bernardo, an affluent suburb of San Diego. The emergency services for Police and Fire are 5 minutes from our home.
By the time officers responded to the call, 40 minutes had elapsed. This of course meant that the young man in question was long gone, and there was nothing to do other than shine a light around. The absurdity would be laughable if it wasn't so terrifying. We rely on these services in moments of crisis. Wether it be violence or accident our lives depend on their response time.
The lesson in all this? Next time I should grab the bat and handle it myself. Unreal.
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