My Encounter with the Police (not Sting)

A week ago Friday night I was sitting here on the computer taking a Harris Poll and watching TV. I was dressed for bed and relaxing until someone banged on the door loudly and insistently. It scared me to death! They banged so forcefully that the door shook. I went around through the kitchen and looked out front where no one at the door could see me. A police car was parked at the bottom of my driveway. The door banging began again even more insistently. I went in my room to put on more clothes, so I could go to the door when it sounded as if they were about to break down the door. All kinds of thoughts went through my mind. What if this isn't really the police? What if it is the police and they break into my house? I cautiously opened the door and didn't see anyone at first. The policeman leaned against the side of my house by the door where I couldn't shoot him if I were an armed criminal. That was even more frightening! Hey, I've seen this on Law & Order! I've also seen on the real news that the police sometimes go to the wrong house (duh!), break down the door, and rough up the people inside or worse! Then do they pay for the door? And what about the rest of it!



I tentatively inched my head out the door and peeped out at him. Then he stepped over a bit and said his name and asked how I was doing, ma'am. I told him in a shaky voice, "You scared me to death banging on my door like that!" Unapologetically, he asked if this were an address that has the same house number as mine but a different street. I said no and told him my address. He said oh that other street must turn into this one and rushed off without an apology or explanation to whatever call he was investigating but said something I don't remember.

This whole experience was scary! For one thing, my address is on both sides of my mailbox where he was parked. All he had to do was look at it. My house number is on the front of my mailbox, on my carport, and on a metal thing in the ground. The street sign is clearly evident where he turned on my street. OK, he made a mistake, but it had me rattled for quite a while. I knew my son was still up because he'd answered an email, so I emailed him to tell him what happened and told him that it helped when he was younger just knowing he was in the house. He emailed me back, and that calmed me down a little and made me feel better. I don't call there that late because I don't want to wake Brendan or them. Speaking of Brendan, thank goodness he wasn't here spending the night when all that happened!