Hey Jakey,

Here's a stupid little story that I remember from my college days. I was reminded of this event today when a bunch of cop cars zipped past me today on the way to a drowning at Chimney Beach:

I used to live with a girl named Betsy in the apartment on 9th Street, right next to SJSU (I used to call her Betsy Wetsy behind her back, and I couldn't stand her, but that's neither here nor there...). I came home late one night, and Betsy was already in bed. I came up the back stairs, because the front stairs had been roped off for repairs or some such. As soon as I walked in the door, I heard (and felt--it was a rickety building) someone clomping up the front stairs. I knew whoever it was had to be up to no good, and I ducked down out of sight, so the person wouldn't eventually see me through the front window, just standing there alone in the living room. The guy starts banging and kicking in our front door, and shouting. Betsy runs in and asks what the hell is going on, and I tell her to call 911. So she calls 911, and I hear her shouting into the phone "911! 911!" I'll never know what that was all about. I think she was trying to dial with her voice or something. Then they guy smashes our kitchen window in and is flailing his arm around, and tries to drag Betsy's computer off the kitchen table. Meanwhile, Betsy has dragged me into the bathroom, and she's on the phone with the police, who tell us to stay there until they arrive. So then we hear some more banging on the front door, and the voice on the phone says it's okay to come out now, that it's the police at the door. They arrest the guy, take a statement and go away.

I think that was the only time Betsy ever touched me, cuz she hugged me before we both went to bed that night. I just think that it's terribly weird that we will both be telling this story until the end of our days, whenever anyone we're conversing with mentions a break-in, or a burglary, both of us will trot out this story. I'll never see this woman again, nor do I care to, but we both lay claim to this little slice of life, and we'll always remember each other because of it. She's out there lord-knows-where, telling her version, and I'm here telling my version, but never again shall we meet.

Anyway, just sharing a random story with you, because it's funner than working. Love you!