I exited Walmart a few days ago to find the parking lot where I left my car swathed in vivid yellow crime scene tape. ????? I’m sure my face was a comical mix of both panic and confusion. Panic because I don’t like meeting policeman … for any reason … ever … even at a cocktail party … and confusion because, frankly, I was confused. I stood there stupidly waiting for my fight or flight instincts to cool down and worked hard to discern just what the hell happened in the 30 minutes I was in Walmart and how I was going to get out of there discretely.
The condensed version is that a lone policeman, investigating a robbery, made like Baretta by leaping onto the hood of a moving car, firing 8 shots through the windshield and killing the robbery suspect driving the car before falling off the car and breaking his leg …. right in front of my car … all this happened while I was inside pondering which Capri pants to buy?!?!?!?!
It took over an hour to get out of the parking lot passing no less than 30 police cars and twice as many policemen. I think the hair on the back of my neck finally relaxed like two days later.
No one at work believed my excuse for being back late from lunch. Trust me; it was really satisfying to show them THIS; yet another entry for the part of my scrapbook titled Things I Thought Would Never Happen to Me.
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