July 25, 2008

City Living

While watching The Big Fat Quiz of the Year on YouTube, which sadly does not air in America (along with a host of other awesomeness, but this is not about that), Lib and Joy and I were interrupted by a man’s loud voice. The bus stop is right outside our window, literally ten feet away, and we’re used to overhearing conversations and drunken over-loudness. We didn’t think much of it. Then it got louder.

Then there were a number of expletives, and a woman’s voice—a much younger woman’s voice—and the man was now shouting at her, calling her a dumb bitch and what-have-you, and by now we’re all getting up and wandering toward the window when we hear a loud crash. I crouch beside the window and peer out to see the glass wall of the bus shelter completely shattered. The girl was walking—not running, interestingly, so they probably knew each other—away from the man, and he, possibly not wearing shoes and without shirt, went staggering after her.

Lib swoops dog to retrieve her dog, formerly perched in the window. I’m on the phone to 911. Joy, because she’s incredibly good people who saves ducks in the road, runs out the front door to keep an eye on the girl. Lib has set her dog down to follow Joy, because we are paranoid people and this is not at all like ducks. I twist my neck back under the window to repeat my address a third time to the operator, using the strongest language I have to suggest that maybe we shouldn’t worry about the glass on the ground and perhaps focus on the scene of domestic violence about to happen between persons of about a ninety-pound weight discrepancy.

While on the phone, I see several more people gathering in the road—a college student walking a golden lab, a man from across the street, and a few teenagers in caps. The girl with the lab waves her cellphone at me, and I wave mine back to indicate I’m on with the cops. She points down the street in the direction the man had left, and takes her dog at a slow pace to follow them. About ten minutes later, she walks back past our building to tell us the cops have arrived. One of them meanders over to take a picture of the broken glass, radios something back to his partner, and that’s all we hear of it.

So of course I’ve been refreshing the police blotter like crazy, trying to make sure everything turned out all right.

Ann Arbor: still better than Worcester.

2 comments:

atheistagogo said...

Yikes. At least it sounds like other folks were paying attention, and not just looking away.

Sarah Beedoo said...

Well... see 'Worcester' (hee). Yes, that did make me feel quite a bit better--the street had runners and children on it not 20 minutes before. Bizarre.