June 18th, 2004
|05:19 am - NAKED MAN ON THE LOOSE|
There is a naked man on the loose in my neighborhood.
Man, how often do you get to say something like that? I'm sure everybody's had a time in their life where they can say something like this. I mean, after the excitement has died down you get to sit back and, with some degree of stupefied reflection, blurt out a truly absurd phrase that now and forever after will actually make sense to you.
So it is with me. I can safely say with full conviction that there's been a time in my life where a naked man was on the loose in my neighborhood. (And at least it wasn't me.)
I live on the third story of a small house in Somerville, right across the river from Boston. My hilltop neighborhood is quiet, with the occasional rowdy midnight basketball game in the nearby park or a few college kids stumbling loudly home on a weekend after a few parties. Apart from a few accidents caused by cars breezing through the four-way stop on my corner, I've never had to call the police for anything. I also have a porch deck off the back of the house, accessible from the ground by a hard-to-reach back staircase, and I've always felt comfortable enough in the summers to sleep with the deck door open and the screen door locked shut, just to catch whatever crossbreezes I can at night.
Until tonight. The NIGHT OF THE NAKED MAN.
It's about 4:30 AM right now in my time zone. My doorbell rang about an hour ago. It woke me up from a pleasant slumber and a dream involving me appearing on the Match Game and being really hilarious, and I really hate being woken up in circumstances like this. Moreover, I hate being woken up by the doorbell, because it signifies that there's someone at the door what wants a word with you. And who the hell wants a word with you at 3:30 in the morning?!
"Maybe it was an electrical short," I thought, and rolled back over in bed, ready to continue the dream and provide an answer to the phrase "FRENCH BLANK." From what I could remember, I knew it was going to leave Betty White in stitches. A few seconds later, however, back in the real world, the doorbell rang again.
This time I wasn't so much annoyed as freaked out. There really was someone downstairs ringing the bell. And they weren't content to ring it and wake me up and run off, no. They wanted to stay and chat. This clearly did not bode well. I did not want to chat with anybody. So I got out of bed and, in a rare moment of paranoid foresight, closed and locked the porch door. I walked over to the window facing the street to find out if I could see who was in my front yard.
There were no cop cars about, so I was reasonably sure it wasn't John Law paying a late-night visit to a good, law-abiding citizen. I knew it wasn't my landlady, who lives on the first floor of the building, because she was out of town all week and usually prefers to call if she needs anything -- and if she'd locked herself out of her place, there wasn't much I could do anyway. The second story apartment is vacant at the moment, so I ruled out any possible neighbor lockouts. So who was the mystery doorbell ringer?
Oh, there he is. He's now walking through my front yard gate and out across the street. He's a young man, mid-20s, short black/brown hair, and holding a large plastic mug. He's also stark naked.
"Great," I thought. "There's a naked guy running around on my street." I watched him go up to the house across the street, amble onto their porch, and ring their doorbells too. He seemed to be walking okay, no staggering or nothing, so he wasn't drunk at least. He seemed kind of peaceful, he wasn't bellowing or angry-looking, but I knew he was definitely on something, that much I could bet on. You don't go round at 3 in the morning ringing people's doorbells in the nude unless you have a very good reason. Either he'd medicated himself up just a bit, or maybe he'd forgotten to take his proper medication this evening, or maybe Jesus just came down, assumed the form of his neighbor's dog, and told him to shed off his mortal vestments and spread the Good Word door-to-door. I also noticed that my house and the house across the street were the only ones with porch lights on, so we must have attracted his attention like a little naked moth. And in the time it took me to get over to my room and pick up my cellphone, the naked man had crossed the street and rung my doorbell again.
I called the police department and told the nice man at the dispatch desk that there was a naked man on my street ringing people's doorbells.
"Huh. What house number are you at?" the nice policeman asked me.
"206," I replied.
"We just got a call from 210," he said. "A squad car is on its way."
So the guy's a total stranger to other houses as well. I had thought perhaps he'd been locked out of his own place, due to some crazy convoluted scheme or whatnot. Well at least now maybe the police could give him some help.
I sure wasn't going to confront the man myself, mostly because I still wasn't sure what his game was and if I drew attention to myself, there's no telling what he might do. I was (and still am) rather curious, though -- what exactly did he want? But when you've still got the white-hot startling paranoid fear running through your veins, and you've also got a deep-seated interest in defending your property, you may not want to startle the naked doorbell-ringer with any pertinent questions and instead let the nice policemen do the asking.
In the time it took the two squad cars to show up, lights a-blazing, the man had crossed the street, rung 207's doorbells (not 210's as I had originally written) and come back to my porch. Great. The cop cars stopped a half block up the street, and I watched the naked man watching the cops from my front yard gate. We have a few big leafy bushes (har har har) around the front fence, and the man crouched behind one, keeping an eye on the police officers. Now I knew he wasn't legitimately in trouble, he was definitely a nut out on a night on the town with a song in his heart and god-knows-what in his mug. And when an officer walked by with a flashlight, he took off into my side yard.
Goddammit. That's the side yard that leads to the deck stairs. It's more of a side alley, really, running between my house and the next building over. Access is blocked by a high wooden fence with pointy pickets on top and a hard-to-get-at bungee cord loop keeping it closed (the fence is still new and a proper latch hasn't been installed yet.) And the last time I walked through the yard/alley, there were sharp stones and bits of broken glass lining the sides. That's not so good for regular people, and I was sure Mr. Naked Doorbell Ringer Mans was about to encounter some trouble.
But the police hadn't spotted him!
So I called out my window to the cop.
"Officer," I said, "I'm up here on the third floor. The man just came through my yard and ran down the side yard there, where you're pointing your flashlight."
"How long ago?" the cop asked.
"About thirty seconds ago," I said. He squawked on his radio and headed for the yard to investigate. Meanwhile, I had a terrible premonition that the naked dude was climbing my porch stairs, so I headed over to the back door and peered out through the curtain. I'd also grabbed my heavy maglite flashlight because you never know when you might need to crack a skull from behind two shut and locked doors.
No grinning naked man face greeted me. Well, I thought, at least he's not on my deck. Did they get him? I went back over to the street window and saw two different police officers walking out of my front yard. I saw no sign of the first officer or the naked guy.
"Did you get him?" I called from the window, but I got no response.
Now, this story is well and duly compelling up to this point, and I know it needs either some very funny ending in which I'm very clever and say just the right thing at just the right time and end up winning, or an ending where I actually confront the naked man for the sake of the narrative but end up winning, or maybe some crazy make-em-up twist ending where the aliens land and the naked guy is scooped up and returned to his home planet. But that's not to be. Real life doesn't work like that. We rarely get fully clever endings that tie everything up so nicely.
All I know is this:
There was a naked man running up and down my street tonight, probably hopped up on goofballs or something, ringing people's doorbells. He still may be hanging around the neighborhood. He may be sleeping under my porch stairs, or he may be sleeping it off in the local drunk tank. I'd like to think the cops got him, since he couldn't have gotten far in that side yard, being so treacherous to bare feet and all.
Now it's past 5:30. I've been up writing for over an hour now. The sun is up, the birds is chirping, and the early early risers are now out and about in the neighborhood. I'm going to try to get back to sleep with my porch door cracked open to relieve the stifling mugginess, cellphone and heavy maglite at the ready in case I hear something. And if my cat decides to be a wiseass and headbutt the metal part of the screen door, as he's been known to do in the past, later on today I shall post another entry entitled "Holy shit, cats really can fly."
|Date:||June 18th, 2004 05:39 am (UTC)|| |
from another perspective
I woke up because the police came into the yard, speaking loudly and making radio noises and shining their flashlights about. They stood about 3 inches from my open (screened) window and talked about how "he ran down here." One of them exclaimed "bingo!" making me think that they'd found the mysterious "him." I wondered who these voices belonged to, and I wondered who "he" was. I thought maybe a neighbor had lost a dog. They shined their flashlight into my apartment. Then the voices discussed the fact that the gate was closed, so how could that be? They wandered off, and I looked out the window to see that it was two of Somerville's finest, wandering off and leaving the aforementioned closed gates wide open.
The side yard does actually lead down to the neighbor's back yard, where there's another low fence and gate. The neighbor uses the combination of her yard and the yard between the houses as a dog run.
At the time, I had much bigger fears about who the police might be looking for, and a similar reaction to yours about first floor windows protected only by a screen. I also wondered about those rear deck stairs. Since I didn't know who they were looking for, I had a lot of trouble calming down and getting to sleep. I eventually called the police department and asked them who they'd been looking for in my yard, and the news that it was a naked man actually eased my mind quite a bit, though I didn't know the rest of the story. A naked man on a warm night is less alarming to me than the possibility of a person who'd just killed someone, or mugged someone, or robbed a convenience store at gunpoint, which are the thoughts that had previously been going through my head.
I think maybe I'm glad that my doorbell is a little hard to see, under the circumstances.
Re: from another perspective
Was there a light on by your door? I bet you were spared the doorbell-ringing if there wasn't. The stairway light was on behind my door, and I think that's what he was attracted to. He was definitely looking for signs of life. When he went over to 207, he only rang the doorbells by the door with the light.
I can't believe the policemen gave up after finding a closed gate, though. No gate seemed to deter the naked guy! I hope he was sufficiently spooked enough to run down the hill and go home, or something -- and when it began to rain in earnest around 5, I was wondering if he'd found shelter.
Well, that totally beats the time some guy I'd never seen before in my life came to my apartment one evening and knocked on the door and proceeded to ask me if he could come in and watch Hill Street Blues. At least he had clothes on.
LOOK OUT! He's right behind you!!!
Maybe he was an alien. An alien trying to make a love connection. And all he knows about our culture is what he's been able to glean from air waves escaping into space: porn and coffee commercials. And you'd be hard pressed to find satellite broadcasts that DON'T include Law and Order now a days, so of COURSE he would understand about the cops.
Looks like I've cracked this little code for ya, Rob.
Don't mention it.
|Date:||June 18th, 2004 12:32 pm (UTC)|| |
Actually, he was looking for aliens
(warning, the link, while just text, contains text that may not be safe for work, depending how nosy your coworkers might be).
Whoa. Huh. You're right.
I could've heard the number wrong, or the people on the side of the street next to me might have called too, but I was too preoccupied with TRYING NOT TO FREAK OUT and trying to keep an eye on him that I just assumed the across-the-street people had called in too.
|Date:||June 18th, 2004 12:46 pm (UTC)|| |
I've got a theory
I can explain how 206 and 210 can be on opposite sides of the street, but I don't think it quite applies in this case. If the houses have their addresses (and front doors, etc) on Street A, but they are on opposite sides of Street B which runs perpendicular to Street A between them, then they would have numbers with the same even/oddness. Now, 206 is on a corner, but it sounds like the street that Naked Man crossed is the street put the front door, that has odd numbers on the other side of it.
Re: I've got a theory
This is a very good theory, and logically sound, and would work if it were not for the "dude who'd just been woken up by a naked guy ringing his doorbell not thinking clearly" theory which I personally swear is the correct one, honest!
I think every man, woman, and child in America should have a Weird Naked Person Story.
Mine involves a woman who was clearly altered walking into midday traffic on North Michigan Avenue (Chicago), and getting naked. Over near where the annoying mime generally was.
She wandered through traffic and caused it pretty well to stop. The mounties had to deal with the problem, so you can imagine the hilarity of the mounted police trying to arrest Totally Nude Chick.
Nude Folks, so long as they're just hopped up and not molesting cats, are Good Times.
|Date:||June 18th, 2004 12:16 pm (UTC)|| |
Oooh, ooh, I have one!
Weird Naked Person story:
So, this was on my wedding night, and my husband came out of the bathroom all naked and . . .
Wait. Isn't that what you meant?
Re: Oooh, ooh, I have one!
So long as you can tell it in polite company, it's good.
Re: Oooh, ooh, I have one!
Did the cops have to show up?
|Date:||June 18th, 2004 09:24 am (UTC)|| |
May I link to this post, please? :)
Sure, why not? Go right ahead. :)
|Date:||June 18th, 2004 10:53 am (UTC)|| |
I found the mug
It's in the side yard, where Naked Guy must have leapt the gate to run along the side of the house.
You could investigate the remaining traces of its contents, if you'd like. :-)
Re: I found the mug
Aw, shucks, and me without my Lil' CSI Forensics Kit! :)
"Hopped up on goofballs" is one of my Top 10 Favorite Phrases.
|Date:||June 18th, 2004 01:54 pm (UTC)|| |
Do YOU have the goofballs?
I've been looking for them everywhere!
|Date:||June 18th, 2004 08:09 pm (UTC)|| |
"Nine naked men just walking down the road..."
I was at a friend's graduation today and witnessed a streaking (by a streaker). I think he successfully evaded police and security. He also made me glad a) that I was sitting on the opposite side of the field and b) that I only looked up in time to see his hindquarters.
this was the funniest story that I think I've ever heard! I'm sorry that it happened to you... but.... ahhahahahah!!!!!
|Date:||June 20th, 2004 05:31 pm (UTC)|| |