I came home from work today, ran some errands, went to the financial aid office at school to get things set for the fall semester, walked my dog, did the dishes and thought "Wow, what a boring day."

Then 4 cops were pounding on my front door, all "Burlington POLICE department. Open the DOOR!" Of course I opened the door but to myself I thought "those goddamn neighborhood kids" but then realized that there were actually cops at my door and they asked if they could come in. If school has taught me one thing it's not to let law enforcement in your home until you've done a quick yet thorough inventory of what could by lying around. That went right out the window and I became the Welcome Wagon for the Burlington Police and let them parade right into my livingroom. They asked me if I was home alone and I could hear my dead mother yelling at me because I told strangers that I didn't have any adult supervision. So they ask me for ID and ask me if Tyrone is home. I told them I don't know what that means and a second cop asks me again for ID. I grab my bag all spazzy and two out of the four cops starting saying "whoa...slow down, nice and calm, ma'am." I guess they thought I had a firearm in my bag but I was more concerned with the fact that they called me ma'am. Anyway, I've got one cop looking around my apartment, one standing near the door and two more completely in my dance space, which I hate. Back up, Johnny Castle. I show them my driver's license but they want to know if I have anything else. (I admit that it's not a very flattering photo but I didn't think it was THAT bad.) I show them my Homeland Security badge and then their tone changed dramatically, complete with "She's clear, Davis. She's with DHS."

At this point I was getting annoyed because two seconds before this, they think I'm some sort of criminal and now they're trying to small talk about the weather, my job and my dog who's running around like 7 pounds of idiot during all of this. They take down my information and apologize for the intrusion, but there's a guy named Tyrone who uses my address as one of his many addresses and they're looking for him. Thanks, Walker Texas Ranger, I kinda figured that part out all on my own. I asked what the guy looked like because chances are I've seen him but when they told me that he's a tall guy with a tattoo on his forehead, he didn't sound familiar. The cops apologized again and asked me to give them a call if I see anyone fitting that description. I asked where I should call and one of the cops said "Uh...911?" I responded with, "Ah...oh, okay, I get it. It's like an EMERGENCY if I see him. Sure, with the tattoo...and...mmm hmm...got it. "

I go back to doing my dishes and decided that maybe my day wouldn't feel so boring if I hung out with wanted criminals named Tyrone who have tattoos on their face.

I saw my neighbor a little while after the whole thing and they looked around his place, too. I told him that I guess that's just the price we pay for living next door to a tattoo shop.

He didn't get it.

xo,
Swyrone

<< * >>