Picture it, Sicily, 1914. Wait, no, it was Nov. 12, at 6:45 a.m., the start of a normal day in Bowling Green. I was on my way out to work.
I was parked on High Street in front of the apartment where I reside. Something looked a bit off on this strangely warm and damp morning, eyes fixated on the sidewalk littered with wet, chunky glass shards. Quickly I looked at the passenger window of my piece-of-crap Pontiac, it was completely shattered.
Grief-stricken, I realized that my beloved CD collection was missing, as well as some cash. A jagged brick lay on the car floor, swimming in a sea of transparent turquoise.
And so, I did what anyone would do; I called my mom to cry like a baby, and then I called the city police. I was surprised how quickly the officer came and went, as well as the lack of information that he required from me. He stated that it was unfortunate, but that this sort of thing happens all the time, and there was little that could be done. I told him what was missing, he wrote it down, and that was that.
After making some phone calls, and thinking about the music I would never be able to afford to replace, it dawned on me. I had forgotten to point out to the officer that the brick used to smash my window was still in my car. I wasn’t sure, but I thought maybe they could use it somehow, to test for fingerprints perhaps. The dispatcher stopped me before I could mutter a sentence. No, they would not test for fingerprints, and no there was nothing more that could be done. She proceeded to tell me what happened, as if I hadn’t come up with a scenario on my own. “A couple of drunk guys walking home from the bars were looking for trouble, smashed your window and stole some stuff. It happens all the time around here,” she said. Wow, I had never conceived such a notion. It was brilliant.
I learned a few things from this unfortunate occurrence. 1. Don’t leave anything of value in your car overnight. Some clown is bound to feel pompous and he or she will most certainly get away scot-free.
2. Don’t assume insurance will help pay for your losses, I’m getting jack.
3. The delightfully, down-home Bowling Green city police, pleasant as they are, will not consider students a priority. It’s not because they don’t like us, it’s not because they don’t have sympathy, it just is. They will consistently say things like “This happens all the time,” and “You’re not the only one,” for comfort. I realize they have bigger fish to fry, big city business to conduct, sporting events to regulate, DUIs to dish out, and perhaps a domestic violence case to investigate, but still, I can’t help but feel disappointed in the somewhat callous, casual way my larceny complaint was handled. Just offering some constructive criticism. Do I live in the ghetto? I didn’t think so, but maybe I am naive. In fact I know I am. I’m naive enough to believe that when I park my car at night, it will be in the same shape the next morning.
Everyone has to have some level of trust when it comes to this sort of thing, but anymore it is really hard. What keeps someone who doesn’t have a guilty conscience from breaking into a car, house or anything? Fear of the law, that’s what. And if there is no law to fear, why wouldn’t these shameless creatures break the law?
To whomever decided to throw that brick (perhaps too ignorant to read a newspaper, come to think of it), I just want to tell you that you took a lot more than material possessions, you took the things that get me through the day, the words that make life make sense. I hope you enjoy late nights with Elliott Smith, and early mornings with the Ben Taylor Band, as well as all the other great ones in between. I sure did. (Sigh, tear). I also hope that four dollars on the car seat affords you much pleasure. But seriously, I wish I could be cocky enough to say “What goes around comes around,” and snap my fingers and swirl my head simultaneously, but I probably can’t pull that off. So instead, I’ll try and find that darn voodoo doll of mine. Just kidding. Not really though.
