almost nothing scares guy and me more than a home invasion. we're even considering getting a handgun, although i believe that no one gets shot if there's no gun and i don't want guy or i to get shot.
i am also afraid of teenagers. man, they are pissed and don't know how to handle the drugs and alcohol. they have little to no conscience and should be considered dangerous until proven innocent. or at least nice.
about 12 minutes ago my two fears just came together and met and freaked me right out of my skull. i hallucinated afterward. heard things. heart pound.
what happened. 3 teenagers came to the door. i thought it was my friend BB stopping by to say hi. he's been granted that access. although he usually calls first. i opened the door like an idiot and was faced with a curly-haired 16 year old. behind him i see two other guys. they may have been even younger.
curly hair says, "um, this may sound weird, but can i use your bathroom?"
i'm silent. thinking. heart racing. "just go in the street," i tell him.
"well, it's not number one."
me, heart attack coming on, shaking, looking at the other guys watching for movement. "go in a bag." i tell him.
"um, that's kind of gross."
i say, "i'll give you toilet paper."
"ok." curly tells me, with reluctance.
i close the door and lock it. i go to the kitchen to get a bag. i go to the bathroom and pull off a substantial amount of paper. when i get back to the door, one of the other kids is next to curly hair, right on the front step, right up against the door. the third kid is one step behind them. 2nd guy on step one has straight blonde hair cut over the ears, but long-ish. he's got zits under his nose. he smiles weird. what's extra weird is i never see the face or body of the third kid. but i felt a third. i know there was one. weird.
i hand the guy the bag and paper and say, "Throw the bag in one of the garbage cans down there." i close the door and lock it immediately and walk away to the den.
i'm freaking out. i check ichat for my friend J. he's not on. i call KN. she doesn't answer. i go through my iphone looking for someone i can call who doesn't freak out. i don't want to ruin guy's family evening of fun and gaity and i don't want to call my mom because she will not sleep all night.
i call A. she can handle it and calm me down.
she doesn't answer.
i start to see movement in the massive windows that surround every room in this house. downstairs is mostly glass. no curtains on the biggest brightest windows that are directly in front of me.
i don't like that our door has a window in it. i wonder how long they were standing there watching me. the music was super loud, i had no idea of anything until i heard a slight thump. it looked like it could be BB, but i couldn't really see.
now i'm drinking a glass of wine and smoking. in the house.
why would this happen when guy is on the other side of the country?
i'm thinking about the gun again. i hate guns.
Can I Run? by L7
Are these sensible shoes on my feet
I wear my shades so our eyes don't meet
I'm scared every fuckin' day
I wear my headphones so i
can't hear what you say
Can i run
Switch to paranoid from having fun
Will he use his hands, knife, or a gun
Knuckles are white, wrapped around my mace
Comes from living in a terrorist state
Can i run
When he's following me
He's not my brother, he's my enemy
Is he behind the door or in back of the tree
Is he under the bed, is he in the back seat
Can i run
(that's it. i'm gonna take a klonopin. i just heard things in a tipsy song that gave me a slight panic attack.)
2 comments:
Something very similar happened to me one dark night last year. There was a knock at the door near 11pm. Our door also has a window and I could see it was a teenager, with another a few feet behind him.
I don't know why I even opened the door. Probably so I wouldn't be thought of as racist. But I understand now that there was simply no reason for me to answer the door to a stranger at night. It was irresponsible, considering my wife and son were upstairs.
I think what I should have done was just talked through the door, keeping one hand on my cell phone. I could have yelled, "Can I help you?" through the door. And he could have said what said through the door: "Which way is Elmira?"
A ridiculous question. How lost do you have to be to resort to knocking on doors for directions?
But I opened the door, like an idiot. This happened to me once in Santa Clara too, and I swore I wouldn't do it again. But I did.
I swear I will never open the door to a suspicious stranger again.
I forgot to say, I'm sorry you had to go through that, and I am glad you are OK. And the new painting looks great. You have an amazingly detailed eye.
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