Monthly Archives: November 2009

Tomorrow, I clean my closets.

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The goons are out in the neighborhood tonight.

Harley and I were a few blocks away from my apartment, turning a corner, when I heard a gunshot.

I stood still, watched the street, and had two thoughts:

  1. Shit. My closets are a mess! If I get shot again my mother is going to fly up, and get buried under an avalanche of laundry.
  2. I wonder if I will feel myself fall or if the light will just click off.

After a moment I cautiously continued down the street. Everything was quiet. We were halfway down the block when another shot came from behind the houses. Harley looked up at me like “this is some bullshit.”

And it was.

Once I got to the end of the block, a sketchy guy wearing all black flew around the corner. He clutched something in his coat pocket. I avoided eye contact and kept Harley in a short leash.

Sketch turned into the alleyway, and I made my way to a busier street.

Tomorrow, I clean my closets.

The trash bin calls

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Further evidence as to why I don’t text and drive – on the way to work today I almost smacked into an industrial sized trash bin that was rolling middle of the highway. It was on the top oart of a hill like an obstruction in Mario Kart.

I did a quick gasp/swerve combo and the person tailgating me did the same.

I then called 311 and got my daily dose of government inefficiency:

311 operator: “Minneapolis 311. How can we help?”
Me: “I’m driving eastbound on highway 62 and almost hit an industrial trash can rolling in the middle of the road. Could you send someone to remove it?”
311 operator: “You’ll have to call 911 for that and tell them to remove it.”
Me: “Okay.”

So I called 911.

911 operator: “911.”
Me: “Uh, hi. I was driving down eastbound highway 62 and almost hit an industrial trash can rolling in the middle of the road. Could you send someone to remove it?”
911 operator: “You’ll have to call highway patrol for that and tell them to remove it.”
Me: “Okay.”

So I was transferred to highway patrol, and about 10 miles away from the trash bin at this point.

Highway Patrol dispatcher: “Highway Patrol.”
Me: “Uh, hi. I was –“
911 operator (cutting in): “Yes we have an obstruction on highway 62 eastbound near 32nd Avenue.”
Me: “Huh?”
Highway Patrol dispatcher: “Before the overpass?”
Me (Wondering if I should be part of this convo): “Well, uh –”
911 operator: “Yes.”
Highway Patrol dispatcher: “What’s going on?”
Me: “Uh, I was driving down eastbound highway 62 and almost hit an industrial trash can rolling in the middle of the road.”
Highway Patrol dispatcher: “We’ll send someone right out!”
Me: “Thanks…”