Speaking of Dominoes--5-0, 5-0!

For those who don't know:  Slang for police officers and/or a warning that police are approaching. Derived from the television show Hawaii 5-0.

Last night was dominoes night, my one night of the week where I regularly get together with friends, drink some beers, play some Texas 42 and don't teach karate.  Though now with our new kids classes, I did have to teach a class in the afternoon and then someone was sick and I had to teach the girls class after that (for some reason I think of the poor hen from the cartoons that tries to hook up with Foghorn Leghorn saying with much chicken drama in her voice, "A Maa-aahhn.")--that was a lot of fun.  I'd never taught that group before and there were some girls I'd never met and it was cool seeing the different skill levels and personalities in there.    So, last night wasn't quite karate free and it certainly wasn't drama-free.

We were closing in on the end of our second games, preparing for the exquisite pleasure which is the chips and hot sauce break, when I heard some sounds coming from out in the warehouse proper.  I should say at this point that we play at two tables set up in the back room of a sort of mini warehouse where my friend plies his trade involving some serious wood-working skills and from where I was sitting I could just see the back wall of the main warehouse area out the door.  It's fairly normal for people to come and go during games and so I figured if it was anything it was somebody coming in late and didn't think much of it.  Till I saw some flashing lights on the back wall and thought to myself, "That's odd."

I tried to look back down at the game and finish the hand, but then heard some voice from outside say something like, "Come out here."  The guy who leases the space sort of shrugged his shoulders and said something like, "I'm gonna see what's going on" and went out. 

The flashlight beams steadied on the back wall as he came out and I heard more of the muffled voice, in retrospect saying something along the lines of the classic, "Hands up."  Looking at the light splashed on the back wall I could see the shadow of my friend's hands up in the air.

I said, more to myself than anyone, "This doesn't look good."

My friend's voice came from the outside, "Y'all better come out."

So all eight of us filed out one by one, into the glare of the flashlights from a couple of cops, while a rather urgent conversation was going on between Cop #1 and my friend, something like:

Cop #1:  We got a residential burglary call from this address.
Friend:  I don't have an alarm.
Cop #1:  The address was [incomprehensible] Q, this is apartment Q isn't it (looking around and possibly feeling kinda stupid surrounded by wood-working equipment, wood and the clutter of a wood-working shop)?
Friend:  Yeah, you've got the wrong place.  There's no burglary here.

Cop #1 (cryptically):  Well, your door was unlocked.

(in reconstructing the conversation later we figured that in addition to raiding an obviously non-residential mini warehouse, it's entirely possible that the cops had the wrong street, too.)

By the time I got out there the cops had put away their guns, though Cop #2 was looking pretty hawkeyed at all of us and she looked like she was still pretty jacked with adrenaline.

It's always interesting to have these little tet-a-tets with the police--even if you haven't done anything you start wondering, is there somethign I've done that I don't even remember that I could possibly be getting in trouble for?  Have my friends done something that I don't know about that could get me in trouble?  Is this going to affect that law license that I don't use?

Turns out that the police had been by earlier in the evening, "looking for a dog."  And later last night, when one of the guys who plays darts in one of the other warehouses was leaving, he apparently got pulled by the cops who appeared to be looking for someone.  But by the time we all went our separate ways at the end of the night, I didn't see any squad cars in the area.  No doubt there was a drone flying above us unseen in the cool night air, but out of sight, out of mind. 

Comments

[Robin]

hm. what kind of contraband is kept at these "warehouses" anyway? darts? dominos? dogs? sounds like a breeding ground for decadence and corruption.

[g.]

Cold beer, chocolate, mixed nuts, pretzels, tortilla chips, homemade hot sauce (the best in a staggering array of varieties--generally at least nine or ten types), the occasional hummus and sometimes a bit of cheese.

[Robin]

all local of course.
maybe the cops were hungry.

[Cindy]

what i wouldn't give to have been there to laugh....graham with his hands on his head....heeeelarious!

also, you were in my dream last night. i was trying to talk to you about something serious (no idea what) and you jumped off a cliff, landed on the ground, and stuck two sticks in your ears so as to block out the sound of my voice. you weirdo.

[g.]

The only way it could have been better is if the woman cop had yelled in a very butchy voice, Assume the position.

Cindy, obviously your dream is associating me with Robert Redford (or Paul Newman?) in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, but without the river to jump into you're acknowledging our drought conditions. I'm the weirdo? If you'd just stop trying to be so serious all the time and lighten up a little bit I might listen to you.