Grand Theft Justin.
This week some hoodlums broke into my house and stole a bunch of stuff that I don't care about. Actually I cared about the 4 seasons worth of West Wing DVD's they took, and also about the Seinfeld box set my sister got me for my birthday. But I didn't really care about any of the others anymore. And apparently they don't care about black and white movies, because those were the discs they left behind. They also took a Playstation 2 that I never played, and about 6 bucks worth of laundry quarters that I had in a drawer. They left behind all the expensive computer equipment, probably because they didn't know what it was. Nice job, idiots. Or perhaps they just wanted to snag some stuff they could move quickly in order to score some quick cash to buy drugs, in which case: well done. Anyway, here's quick list of the lame and predictable things that mostly everyone around me felt the need to say once I broke the burglary news:
1) "Well, you live there on that ground floor. I'm surprised it took this long for something like this to happen. I knew it." (Thanks Mom.)
2) "Did you have renter's insurance?" (Of course I didn't.) "Oh, well you know you really should, it's not all that expensive and for something like this it could have really helped." (Thanks, thanks for that. Helpful.)
3) "Don't you feel SO violated? That's really the worst part about it; how violated you feel afterwards." (Well, actually the worst part is that a bunch of stuff I used to own is no longer in my possession and there's nothing I can do about it. Things that were lawfully mine have been unlawfully removed from my place; that's pretty much the long and short of it.)
4) "Well thank God you weren't there. Just imagine what would've happened if you'd been home."
Number 4 is actually a valid point, but not in the way you think. The one thing I keep thinking about is not how violated I feel or how I wish I'd had insurance, but how nice it would have been if I'd been home. The yearning for revenge has been my most recurrent feeling these last few days. Fantasies of catching these guys (girls?) in the act have been passing in and out of my mind several times a day. Would I have enough adrenaline to take out a room full of robbers? Could I actually knock someone out if I had to? What if I put someone's head through a wall or window when they were trying to run away? Could I go to jail for that? What if I killed someone? Can I kill someone? I have to admit, I feel somewhat ashamed. I was unable to protect what was mine (by actually being here or via insurance) and so now I'm left to ponder imaginary scenarios of violent revenge against the perpetrators. I do live right here on the ground floor though. I guess I had it coming.
1 Comments:
I wonder if you'd have enough adrenaline to take out a pair of robbers too. Remember, they are probably going on high octane at the time as well. Now you would have the element of surprise on your side, a valuable tool in any physical conflict. But unarmed Justin vs. 2 amped up thieves is a tricky proposition. In any of these scenarios, do you have a weapon? My scenario for you plays out like this...you drive by your apartment while parking your car and notice 2 figures in your living room. You calmly realize what is going on and continue to your parking spot as normal. You cooly reach into your drunk and grab your 6 iron (your most consistent club) and carefully but confidently approach your front door. You decide the best course of action is to wait in the stairwell to maximize the surprise factor, as barging right in would alert the intruders to your presence, and you had no way of finding out where they were in the apartment without giving away your position. Also, armed with the knowledge (and that 6 iron) that when they exit the front door they will have their hands full of your stuff assuming they weren't doing a rare appraisal break-in. So the first dude (not a girl) comes out with a bag of your dvd's, look's right...no one there, look's left and just as his eyes get big with surprise...crack!!! 6-iron right to the jaw...down goes Frazier! Now you have a big choice, the other perp would have undoubtedly heard this noise and would investigate...probably with some sort of weapon of his own. Knowing this, you find a new location to hide before perp #2 arrives. You calmly walk down your driveway and hide around the corner of the building where you can case your own joint, and await this guys next move. You assume that he will se his unconscious and bleeding partner in crime and get spooked, hoping he will choose to flee quickly and obey the old adage "there is no honor among thieves". After all, he's already got some loot, he doesn't want to get caught, and more so he doesn't want to play titleist to your 6-iron. Your assumption proves correct. You arrive at your vantage point just as you see him arrive at the tee box where his buddy is floored. He bolts out the door and you know where he's headed. You wait behind the unexposed corner adjacent to the front driveway preparing to hit your second shot. But something happens. He's quicker than you thought, your timing on the swing would never find it's target and he was running on the opposite side of the driveway a good 15 feet away from you. Not to worry. He doesn't see you and he's carrying a suitcase full of your roomates stuff. A quick sprint by you and you are behind him, he hears the footsteps, starts to turn as he runs, and you execute your plan B. Remember that game you play with your buddies when they're walking in front of you on the sidewalk and you gently kick his back foot so he clips his heels, stumbles, and you laugh like a 5 year old? Well, your plan B is part of the same family, only instead of it being your buddy, it's some a-hole, instead of him walking, he's trying to run, and instead of a gentle kick, you go Landon Donovan on his right shin...Red Card!! Down he goes, suitcase flies open, chin meets pavement. And you've still got the 6 iron. It's not in your nature to smack and unarmed man in the head with a golf club, but you don't want this guy to get away either...Fore!! 6-iron to the knee-cap should do the trick. Then you place your size 10 on his neck, get out your cell phone, exclaim "move and you'll be sorry" as you tap the side of his temple with your club. The cops are en route. You hope that perp #1 doesn't come to before they arrive, but you don't want to take your eyes of this other punk. So you grab him by the ankles and drag him up your driveway so you can keep an eye (and potentially a club) on both. Other guy moves around and you remind him not too with a half swing to the ribcage. By this time, neighbors have arrived to add more security to the situation. Moments later, cops arrive, bad guys go into the squad car, you go into your fridge thankfull that they didn't steal any beers, and you explain the situation to the impressed local law enforcement. Later, a reporter from the Times calls to get the lowdown on the club wielding Santa Monica samaritan. Well done Justin. --JC
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