Things That Go Bump On MY Night

My TNL plans this week were far from elaborate. Catch up on work-related tasks at the office, swing by the library to pick up some books on hold, drop in at the Los Gatos Apple Store to get help with an iPhone problem, continue working at the Great Bear and be home ~9-ish to watch TiVo'd "30 Rock" and "The Office" while continuing with more work into the early hours.

I worked too late to stop at the library and still make my scheduled appointment at the Genius Bar, but I did make it to that. And I also made it to the coffee shop just long enough to pour coffee into a cup, position a chair in the spacious front section, align my coffee, cookie and MacBook Pro just so, and connect to their wireless network in order to spend another 1.5 hours doing work and listening to music.

Then the phone rang. It was my wife, calling from her cell phone, with the police on the landline, telling me that I had to come home. Somebody had been repeatedly pounding on the door and blocking the keyhole so she could not see them.

Back in 1999, we'd been married for less than a year. I was working late one evening when I got a frantic call from my wife, whispering and telling me that somebody was in our house. (It was a duplex, actually, but that's not important right now). She was calling me from the bathroom, where she'd been taking a bath and reading a book at the time, when she heard somebody walking up and down the hallway outside the bathroom door! She got up, locked the door, and luckily having had the phone with her at the time (in case somebody called) she called to inform me that she was suddenly not alone in the house.

When she told me this, I told her to call 911, and I raced to my car. My heart was pounding, I was speeding, weaving and rushing to get home, and calling 911 as well myself. I traveled a 20 min distance in half the time.

When I reached the duplex, the police had already arrived. She'd put on a robe and rushed to the door to let them in, and they had inspected the entire place. There was nobody there. Nobody. There was no sign of forced entry and no sign of force exit. There was nobody hiding in the garage, the back rooms, the closets.... anywhere. The officers left, and she swore up and down that she was certain she had heard this. She was adamant about it. She heard somebody walking in the hallway. The puzzle was laid before me. I put on my logical analytical detective's hat, paced about, puffed on my Baskerville pipe and deduced away.

The following evening, I was home at about the same time as her call the night before. As I continued to ponder the possible scenarios, I heard, through the shared wall of the adjoining duplex, the subtle and indistinct voices of our neighbors, Ace and Gary. Their names were not really "Ace" or "Gary", but we strongly suspected they were partners, yet we were not quite certain, so we'd just referred to them as the Ambiguously Gay Duo next door. Suddenly, I figured it out. We walked next door and knocked. When Ace or Gary opened their door (I never could remember who was who), I asked if they'd been home long. They'd both just arrived, which explained my hearing them talking. I asked if one or both of them typically get home at that time and they said yes. I explained what happened the day before and I asked if we could do a quick experiment. I went back to our side of the duplex, sat in the tub, and they walked up and down their hallway. It sounded EXACTLY like somebody was in ours. Case closed.

These things usually have reasonable explanations. Occam's razor. And on the occasional situation where something unusual happens, I've typically and successfully applied this principle with great success. So when walking to my car after receiving her call, I started to mentally work through the possible explanations. As far as a pounding on the door, being Halloween, perhaps it was a prank. As far as the covered peep-hole, maybe somebody taped a note there, or the decorative Halloween sign she'd put on the door was blocking the opening. In the realm of likelihood, these seemed far more possible then anything necessitating the calling of the police.

I'm not knocking her for being concerned. She's home alone, has children to care for and protect when somebody unexpectedly pounds on the door and she's unable to see out the peephole. Although my drive home might have been peppered with muttered Yosemite Sam cursing due to the frustration of having my night out called to a sudden ending, for what would likely have a reasonable and rational explanation, I still had to take it in stride and understand her feelings. As well as the fact that my assumptions could end up being wrong. So I cut her some slack. After all, we're different people and we handle things like this in very different ways. She tends to think first with her heart, and I with my head.

When I arrived home, driving past the patrol car that was leaving in the other direction, I walked in and asked what'd happened. As she related the events following the call to me, expressing her utter embarrassment, it was all I could do to not burst out laughing. In fact, I was unable to contain it and we both ended up laughing at the situation for some time following. It turns out we'd been "BOO'd". When the police officer arrived, he found, on our doorstep, a bag with some candy, Halloween flashlights and a printed "boo" sign with instructions in a gift bag on the patio. This was left by an anonymous neighbor, and it's akin to a Halloween chain-letter within the neighborhood. We now have to "Boo" somebody else. And that blocked peep-hole? It was the Halloween sign I mentioned earlier, immediately pointed out to her by the cop upon his arrival. And it was at that point in the story that I busted out laughing.

So, the events probably played out as follows: A neighbor, or more likely one of the neighborhood kids, put this bag together, set it on our patio, and knocked on the door. They probably did not intend to startle the occupant, but they did so rather loudly, perhaps out of excitement. They then scampered away, but not too far away, watching from a distance in eager anticipation of seeing the door open and observing their gift being received. But after a couple of minutes and no response, they snuck back up, banged on the door again, and skirted away. After two attempts they assumed we were not home or just gave up and when back to their house. All the while she was inside, wondering who was banging on and blocking her view through the door. And calling 911.

She was and remains embarrassed about it. But after we laughed, she got a call from a friend, relayed the story and was laughing about it even further. These things make for great memories. And perhaps learning experiences, too.