Wednesday, July 13, 2005

No, really - THESE are the people in your neighborhood

Yesterday started out great, it was my bloggiversary, my dad and stepmom were finally getting to return to their home after yet another hurricane evacuation, and the movers finally came to deliver our stuff*, (and one of them even looked like a Ukranian Christian Bale [it sounds weird, but it totally worked].)

Then, my arms sore from carrying boxes and my ankles itchy from the usual mosquito activity, I'm cuddling under the sheets in bed, waiting for sleep to come when I hear sirens. It was a little weird to hear them here because, in this idyllic little town, you hardly ever hear them, but I grew up in Southern California, so sirens really don't freak me out too much. Then the sirens seem to get closer. Then there seems to be a lot of them. Then the obscenely bright lights of a police car zoom by our house (and this is a tiny little dead end street, so, there's not much past our house to zoom) and stop, illuminating the walls of the bedroom with red and blue patterns. Then I hear an ambulance.

I realize that this isn't going to go away quickly, so I hop out of bed and go to the window. At the end of the cul de sac, where there are two big buildings that I thought were houses, but are actually 4-plex apartment buildings, there are a couple police cars and an ambulance.

I figure someone's been hurt, but then another police car comes blazing down the street. And another. And another. And another. Pretty soon, then entire Savannah police department is clogging up the street. Oh, and they're joined by 2 more ambulances and a handful of news vans. This is about the time I start to assume that it might be a smidge more than a heart attack, or someone having cut themself shaving.

After about half an hour, it becomes apparent that no one's going to be sleeping for a while, and my husband gets dressed and marches out to talk to the news guys** who tell him that there's a "possible shooting" - 15 police cars and 3 ambulances? I'm going to say it's a bit more of a possibility than not.

Eventually the news comes on and says that the only information that is available is that two men have been shot. To death.

More time passes and the menfolk of our street are gathered in my front yard yapping about whatever boys talk about - I'm tired of the news, so I head outside in my Cheshire-Cat-Striped pajama bottoms, rhinestone flip flops and dirty t-shirt to see what the hubbub is about. Unfortunately, they don't know anything more than me, but I got to bond some more with my charming neighbors***. Before I went in, I met the newsguy from channel 11 (who is WAY cuter in person), but I had no hot info, so he didn't need me. After I went in, my husband got interviewed by the (preternaturally blonde)) Asian reporter Tricia Takanawa from channel 3 who asked if he was at all "concerned" having just moved in here and having this happen. Um, no, Cronkite, we were hoping that crime would go up and property values would go down as soon as we moved in, thanks for asking.

I don't know about you guys, but NOTHING makes me feel more at home than a double homicide.


* First thing I made a point of unpacking? My books

** The news guys did say that they were shocked when they heard the address of the shooting because our little street is such a quiet, nice, normal little neighborhood.

*** One of whom jokingly assured me that "this only happens once or twice a week usually", and the other, the uber-Republican, takes one look at the humidity-fro that I've been rocking and tells me that his wife does hair - um, thanks, asshat