A couple of evenings ago the apartment above us was broken into. And we heard the whole thing. Well no we didn't. We heard the escape. Unfortunately the apt belongs to this cute young couple, just moved here from the midwest. It's unfortunate that it happened to them because I'd hate to have their NY experience start off on this kind of foot when they might already be thinking how "scary and dangerous" New York is. But they seemed to roll with it, whatever that means. It was kind of an eventful night and i learned a few things.
1. Apparently my first concern is for the safety of others. (I am a philanthropist, afterall.) It was only 10:30 or 11 or so and I was sitting here at the computer next to the window and Sean was doing other things nearby. Suddenly we heard a terrible racket coming from the fire escape above. "What the hey?" I said. "what are they doing?" More ruckus, like someone fell 20 feet. "Good heavens! Are they hurt?" my grandmother said. Just kidding, it was me. I talk like an old lady sometimes. Anyway, so, naturally, we tried to spy. My interest wasn't piqued enough to join Sean at the window, but he shut off all the lights and looked out the window. He said he saw someone frantically hurtle himself out of sight somewhere, he assumed into the apartment. My computer screen was too bright so i put down the laptop and went to brush my teeth.
2. Apparently I am totally willing to sacrifice my husband for the good of society. All the noise seemed highly suspicious and we wondered, could someone possibly be breaking into the apartment upstairs?? So i told Sean, "Go check it out! Scare him away! I'd do it but i don't have a bra on." Ha ha. It's funny how either I a) didn't really consider the possibility of a real break-in or b) don't value it as serious as it could potentially be. I really do think i'd try to fight an intruder or confront him/her in some way. Maybe. But yeah. I was like, "go up there! go!" Anyway, we still didn't really think anything of it, but we were growing more concerned. Sean went away for a second and came back and said, (whispered), "Jen! I have my mag-light and hammer. The good hammer." ha ha! Sean has the most love anyone could ever have for a hammer. Anyway, i'm all highly amused by this and we go back to the window to see what else we can see. We hear voices above and think, well, it's not an intruder. Why would they be all chit-chatty? But as time goes on, we realize the police are upstairs. We see big light beams shine through the backyard over and over again.
3. It's good our windows have bars on them. So after we realize something definitely sketchy was going on and that the police are upstairs, I'm like "Sean, go up and tell them what you saw!" He came back a few minutes later and confirmed it was an intruder. Apparently the occupant upstairs went in the kitchen (I think to investigate) and saw the guy standing there. And he bolted. Sean surmises that the guy must have jumped out the window, maybe climbed up but didn't know what to do, and then flipped himself over the fence next door. Crazy stuff!
4. I still do not feel scared. Why? I don't know. Maybe because sketchy people are all around us in this world of ours. Anyone can be "someone." I don't suspect they all are, but I do know anyone could be. And chances are this guy was just some shmo who maybe saw the box outside for a new electronic device and thought, hey maybe i'll see if i can get it. I pitied him because of his feeling like he needed to steal but also because he's kind of a moron. I mean, if you're going to do it, have some kind of plan. First of all, 10:30 at night? I mean, our lights were on. Maybe the guy thought these people would be out partying on a Saturday night. But still. Maybe the fact that I'm faced with sketchier people than I would like makes them more human to me and approachable or, in a weird way, relatable. Or at least understandable. Or maybe just more commonplace.
And that is why I think i'd confront someone if i were in this situation, as I have done before in other sketchy situations. Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I should be scared, but i just don't feel it, maybe because i don't want to. But there's no need anyway, because we have Sean's hammer. (I am not making fun, i swear. this hammer weighs 20 pounds. You could call it an automatic hammer that hammers nails for you, just because if you let it fall on top of a nail head & let gravity do the job, the sheer weight of it would nail in that sucker in one blow.)
(I'm kind of making fun)
All endings of stories should be in parentheses.