Wednesday, 03 July 2002 | Leaf

Eight cops were standing in my driveway when I got home from work today, hands on hips and arms folded, filling in the spaces between their haphazardly parked blue-and-white cars. Apparently a man had broken into a car and passed out in it, his lifeless brown boots sticking out of the passenger-side door. The car, an old Volkswagen, belongs to my neighbors but occupies my garage. Over a year ago, I watched as they pushed it down the street, laughing and running along beside it, surprising me when they parked it where they did. It hasn't gotten much attention since then, until today.

I couldn't figure out why so many cops were necessary; at least by the time I got there, the man was sitting quietly on the curb, his hands cuffed behind his back, a leaf stuck in his hair. The cops were all pretty young and had closely cropped hair and wrap-around shades; bicycle cop even wore a bulletproof vest. They laughed quite a bit and gave each other hearty smacks on their blue shoulders.

I watched the scene like a silent movie from the back room, and then I traded my vision for a room with better sound. From there I could hear both parties being obnoxious, and I left my post. Forty-five minutes later, the man was uncuffed and stumbled off, and the cops slowly rolled away.

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As of tomorrow morning I will be out of town, so updates may be sporadic. At the very least, I should be back on Sunday.