I wasn’t planning on writing a post, but today’s happenings demand otherwise.
Shit that only happens to me. This was my original idea for the title, but ‘Police stole my car’ is more accurate because police did steal my car. Here’s how that happened.
Last night after work, I was pretty damn exhausted and my only, and cherished hope was to get home as soon as possible. After making my way through horrible traffic, I was pleasantly surprised to find plenty of parking next to my home. I should probably mention that I live next to a church because I’m religious like that, or more because it just so happened. This piece of information will become necessary further into the story.
Next morning I woke up as usual. As I was walking to where my car was, I noticed the unusual amount of police, and people in uniforms. Didn’t think much of it. But as I turned the corner to where I parked yesterday – the whole block was empty. Not. A. Single. Car. Including mine. Empty. Deserted. Abyss.
I came closer and noticed one of the signs, that I apparently missed last night. It was stapled to a tree and said no parking all day. Mind you, the sign was just a regular white piece of paper, and looked more like a yard sale ad than a warning of imminent danger. So then, I turned to one of the uniformed officials pleading for further explanation, and was told they are having an important ceremony and know nothing about disappearing cars.
Freaking the hell out, I went home and turned to google. And google told me to call my local precinct. Which I did. And the local precinct advised me they are aware of this mysterious ceremony, and about the towed cars, but it was still early in the morning, and the towed sheets (they had sheets of those! (because of their own ceremony!!) haven’t arrived yet. I was to call back in an hour. And I did. And was told the towed sheets are not there yet, and to call back in another hour. At this point I realized that I’m getting a day off from work and called my boss. Called the precinct in another hour, was gladly informed that towed sheets arrived, but my car was not in any of them. So, it was just gone. And then the precinct was like ‘look lady, your car is not here, there is a small chance we’ll be getting another list of towed cars, wait a few more hours, call us, and if it’s still not here, call 911 and report a missing vehicle.’ Let me reiterate. Police took my car, they don’t know where they put it, and I was to call THEM again, so they can help me find it.
At this point, I felt that I needed to do something, so I got outside. Meanwhile, streets were now filled with police cars and people in uniforms all beautifully lined up, saluting, and playing music. Was I to run into the midst of them and yell out ‘which one of you, assholes, has my car?!’ Before I could do that, I noticed a car with a Department of Transportation sign, so I bugged the guy inside whether he would happen to know about these car-disappearing-devil-games. To which he said ‘yeah, they probably just moved them next to the cemetery.’ And luckily there is a cemetery not far away. It’s not like he was being demonic and all ‘next full moon, 12 at night, come to the cemetery and retrieve your vehicle. Don’t forget church candles. And candy. Because I like candy.’
So, I started walking in the direction of the cemetery. And the same block my car was on yesterday, a police officer was standing, and I decided to ask his point of view about the car-disappearing-devil-games. To which he pulled out his phone, asked my license plate, and gave me the address to where my car was moved to. I was so relieved.
Once I got to the address, I realized he gave me the one where I parked it yesterday. And it was not the same place where my car was today. And this was really the whole damned problem. So I went back to him. And then he said they probably messed up the address and instead of putting the one where they put it, they put the one where they took it. So then I meekly suggested maybe they’ll just put it back once the ceremony is over. And to his credit, with a straight face he just honestly said that ‘No. They are not putting it back.’ My best bet was to roam the streets of the cemetery. At this point I laughed hysterically, asked him to wish me luck, lit my cigarette, and started walking away.
And then as in movies, I was walking away in slow motion, and he yelled after me. He found it. He found the address where my car was moved to. Damn technology. They don’t teach that in police academy. I was thankful that he made the extra effort. Wrote down the address having almost zero faith that this time it was true.
It took me 15 minutes to walk to where it was. It was 10 blocks away. And I found it. It was just standing there with a bright-yellow, sticky note. Along with many other cars with such notes. So, if you have a friend from Brooklyn with a missing car, you know what to do.