I tend to be a spontaneous individual which sometimes causes me to act without putting forth enough logic. Yesterday afternoon is a shining example.
The office complex where I work here in California is L shaped with the parking lot wrapping around the building. The individual office walls are entwined with a good amount of glass and windows which are treated so one can see out but not in. The building sits directly on the corner of two very busy streets; one so much so that we avoid trying to enter the parking lot via that driveway as the traffic is just too rushed. The parking lot itself consists of one row of stalls perhaps six feet from the building, then driving space two-car widths, and then another row of parking stalls. Behind the second row of parking stalls are tall, thick trees that provide wonderful shade and seem to enclose the lot from the outside hustle and bustle of the world. I traditionally park in the second row under the shelter of the tall branches.
Yesterday afternoon I left just a tad afternoon five o’clock. The exit door is mere feet from where I park the Jeep. As I walked through the door I noticed what seemed to be someone sitting in the driver seat of the Jeep. Immediately my thoughts flew to who could be playing a trick on me. I continue to walk and am now at the edge of the second row when it dawns on me this is no joke; someone is sitting in my Jeep with the driver’s door open. As I reach the front fender (many of the cars in the lot back into the stalls as is my habit) the individual steps out of the Jeep. He is in his late 20’s, not of a large build, but bigger than me. Lying on the asphalt next to the driver’s door is his BMX bike. The conversation goes something like this.
Wendy: Hey, how ya doing?
Guy: Hey, I’m cool. I’m cool.
Wendy: Can I help you with anything?
Guy: No man, I’m cool.
As we talk he moves out of the Jeep and reaches down for his bike. I move so that I am standing in front of his bike blocking his exit.
Wendy: So what are you doing in my Jeep?
Guy: My buddies must have been playing a trick on me.
Wendy: How so?
Guy: They put my bike in your car and I was just getting it out.
Wendy: Really. Your bike was inside my Jeep?
Guy: Yeah, they must have been playing a trick.
When we talk he looks around but is not agitated and never tries to make an exit. I continue to speak as if I’m talking to a co-worker; calm, friendly, no threatening words or mannerism. It has become apparent to me that this guy is high on something.
Wendy: So your bike was in my Jeep, okay, but why were you sitting in the driver’s seat?
By now he is sitting on his bike ready to peddle off, but I’m still blocking him. He looks out to the street, looks at the building, then looks at me and says, “I lied. I was going to push it out but you walked from the door so I stopped.”
I stared at him; he stared at me. Silence. A stand-off with each of us wondering what the other was going to do next.
Wendy: Alright, well, head on out now okay.
Guy: Yeah okay.
I moved and made the gesture for him to peddle past. He rode along the row of cars in no particular hurry never looking back as I stood and watched. I got into my Jeep and sat for a moment.
I looked to see if anything was missing, even though there really wasn’t anything to miss. I had just had the Jeep detailed so all extra items were removed. I checked for dangling wires from the dash or evidence that that the stereo had been pried, or anything at all that would say someone other than me had been sitting in that very seat. Nothing. I could find nothing. So I began my journey home.
Knowing I would be recounting this tale to family and friends that logic part that evades me at times came around to visit. I could hear the “Are you insane!” being voiced. Surely I would hear comments such as “Did you call the cops?” “What were you thinking?” “Are you looking for trouble?” “What if he had a gun or a knife?” “Why didn’t you get someone from the complex once you saw him?”
The answer to all the above boils down to me being me. I tend to look for the best in every person and I am stubbornly independent. I went forth in this situation with complete faith that I would not be hurt and wanting to deal with it myself rather than call in the troops. Sure his fingerprints were all over the inside and sure I could have called the police and been detained for several hours. I chose not to in hopes that maybe a close call will somehow reach him and change his mind the next time. Maybe someone showing him kindness in a gentle manner will make more of an impression than abrupt anger. Probably not, but I’d like to hold on to that hope.
All the time I lived in Northern New York I never locked my Jeep. The keys were always left either in the ignition or on the console. If I made a trip to the store the Jeep keys were tossed on the console while I went inside. As one friend puts it, “You’re not in Amish land anymore.” I have to sadly agree.
