San Antonio, Issue 5

The hurricane left us alone, the evacuees are returning home, and I don’t even remember what a car alarm sounds like. We’ve had a good run for the last three weeks, it’s been relatively quiet for us in the Lone Star State. Even Cindy Sheehan left. And thanks to a couple of Road Scholars groupies (is there such a thing?), the smoke alarms have become mute…for the most part.

It turns out that some friends of The Road Scholars residing on California’s beautiful central coast had the same problem with late night false alarms. Not only that, but the make and model of detector they have is the exact same make and model as we have. Coincidence? Yes, that’s what a coincidence is: the occurrence of two or more meaningfully related events without any causal connection between them. And if that doesn’t spook you out, ponder this little factoid: smoke alarms are supposed to be vacuumed. No kidding, read it for yourself:

http://www.brkelectronics.com/faqs/smoke_alarms.htm

With our own problem solved, it was with a little bit of amusement that I listened to someone else’s alarms going off the other night as I watched TV. Of course, my amusement was short-lived. When I turned around to look out the window and saw smoke filling the apartment across from ours, I became downright mad. Jen was at work and I had just sat down with a hot bowl of pasta to enjoy one of my weekly television shows. As I gazed across at the other apartment, I could see thick layers of white smoke but I couldn’t see anyone moving around inside. I felt begrudgingly obligated to put my shoes on and go save the people, then give them a piece of my mind for interrupting my dinner.

Thankfully, as I was putting my shoes on, I saw the lady of the house in her apron walk into the kitchen and start messing with the oven. The apartment was still filled with smoke but the alarms had stopped. I suspect she had probably been trying to figure out how to turn them off which is why I couldn’t see her.

She should have called me.

San Antonio, Issue 4 Conclusion

Naturally the alarm was NOT going off. The officer rolled down his passenger window and I bent down, grabbing a quick breath of composure before I did. I started off euphemistically with “good morning”, even though it was anything but a good morning. The officer just stared at me, as if he had no idea why either one of us was there. Jen and I pointed to the car and explained that the alarm had been going off since 11 O’clock the previous night.

“Do you know who the car belongs to?” he asked.

What kind of idiot did this guy mistake me for? Did he honestly think that if I knew the answer to that question it would have been a “noise complaint” call? If I knew to whom that piece of shit car belonged, Officer Lone Star would have been investigating a homicide. No we don’t know who the damn car belongs to, come on man! He proceeded to give us the speech:

"Well there’s nothing I can do, this is private property. We can’t just tow a car because the alarm is going off, that’s up to the management. It’s not a disturbance, there’s nobody here.”

NOT A DISTURBANCE?! I was looking into the police car, so I can’t be sure, but I think Jen’s eyes popped out of her head when this asshole told her there was no disturbance. I think I was too stunned and/or tired to say the things that were going through my head. I know it wasn’t self-control, because I used that all up yelling at the dispatcher. It’s probably for the best that I just stood there dumbfounded. Jen went on briefly about towing the car, no sleep, alarm all night, etc. Officer Lone Star finally got out of the car. He took out his six-inch flashlight—what kind of self-respecting police officer in Texas carries a six-inch flashlight—and started walking around the car, peering inside.

So far I was completely unsatisfied with the San Antonio Police Department. The dispatchers were condescending and the officer acted like we were crazy. My goal at this point was to stand there for as long as it took to watch the alarm go off in the presence of the officer. The words of the dispatcher were ringing in my head, “he won’t just wait around”—what a bitch. Sure enough, as he shined his light in the windshield…

wooohooo wooohooo wooohooo wooohooo

Woooooooooooooooooooooooooppppp -Woooooooooooooooooooooooooppppp

Heeeeeehaaaaaaaaa-heeeeeeeehaaaaaaaaaa-heeeeeeeeeehaaaaaaaaaa

Ehhhh- ehhhh- ehhhh- ehhhh- ehhhh- ehhhh- ehhhh

Maybe it was wishful thinking, or my sleep starved brain playing tricks, but I could swear Officer Lone Star jumped just a little bit.

At this point, I was satisfied. I was willing to wait for this asshole to leave and then I’d just break a window, pop the hood, and tear off the battery terminals. It wouldn’t be a crime because, by the time the police showed up again, there wouldn’t be anyone there. I was starting to see how this state works. After jotting down the license plate number, Officer Lone Star said “OK, I’ll see what I can do”.

“Thanks”, I replied, and walked back to the apartment. It was now past five and time for me to get ready for work. What a glorious day. As I showered and dressed, Officer Lone Star paid Jen a visit. He let her know that he ran the plates and they were not registered to any address in the complex…not a big surprise. She told him “we just moved from California, and if this had happened there they would just tow the car.” He replied, I’m told with attitude, “that’s not how we do things here.”

Clearly.

He wrote the case number and the license plate of the vehicle on the back of his “business card” and gave it to Jen. When I finished getting dressed, Jen filled me in on what I missed. She showed me Lone Star’s card. Looking at the card I was surprised he didn’t show up in a taxicab whirling a glow stick out the window. I’ve unfortunately had occasion to make police reports before, and usually an officer’s card features the department’s emblem—sometimes embossed—and the officer’s name and contact information printed on the card. This was a white 3 ½ x 2 inch card with “San Antonio Police Department” in black typeface across the top and an address and phone number that looked like they were typed on a typewriter at the bottom. Lone Star had scribbled his name and the case number in the white space in between. Impressive. Now I know why they have right-to-carry laws here.

Overwhelmed and utterly exhausted, I sat down on the edge of the bed. You’re not going to believe what happened next—you seriously won’t—but I swear to you it happened just as I describe it here, with no exaggeration or creative license. Jen and I just stared at each other for a moment, fighting off fatigue and trying to digest the events of the morning.

In that moment of silence, the smoke alarms went off. I simply shook my head and mumbled, head in hand, “you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

San Antonio, Issue 4 Continued Again

I admit, in the past I have been accused of hyperbole, and rightly so. I assure you, however, that everything you are about to read is fact. The names have not been changed because there’s nobody innocent to protect.

Shortly before Jen came home from work Monday night, I remember hearing a car alarm go off. It was one of those alarms that cycles through the different sounds, you know…

wooohooo wooohooo wooohooo wooohooo

Woooooooooooooooooooooooooppppp -Woooooooooooooooooooooooooppppp

Heeeeeehaaaaaaaaa-heeeeeeeehaaaaaaaaaa-heeeeeeeeeehaaaaaaaaaa

Ehhhh- ehhhh- ehhhh- ehhhh- ehhhh- ehhhh- ehhhh

and then it repeats, usually pausing for a few minutes before starting the cycle again. As with most car alarms, I didn’t really give it much thought. I had the TV on and it was only a minor distraction during commercials when I had the sound down. When Jen came home, she mentioned hearing the alarm, which I thought was odd since it had been a good half hour since I first remember hearing it. Usually those things time out after awhile, or the owner gets a clue and fweeps the remote to turn it off. When I told her the alarm had been going off for awhile, Jen suggested we should call the police, but I still didn’t think too much of it.

In the tragedy of my Texas life story, going to bed seems to be my fatal flaw. As I lay there mentally preparing myself for the possibility of another early morning wakeup call, the car alarm became more apparent. Jen suggested again that we should call the police. It was now approaching 12:30 and the alarm had been going intermittently for about an hour. In the great state of Caleefoooooooooornia, any noise like that lasting more than thirty minutes is considered a disturbance of the peace, and law enforcement is empowered to act at their discretion, which can include towing. When I realized I was mentally timing the duration of the alarm and the break between cycles, I made the call.

I called the dispatcher and made the complaint. I figured it wouldn’t be a high priority call, so I went back to bed, 5AM comes early. Jen was all wound up. She perched herself on a chair by the window and waited like a kid peering through a toy store window for the cavalry to arrive. After a few minutes she grew impatient and decided to make a second call, after all, she reasoned, two complaints should escalate the call. Eventually she got tired of waiting and went to bed as well, but it turns out neither one of us was really sleeping.

I faded in and out of consciousness for a few hours. When I wasn’t catching a few minutes of sleep, I was listening to the alarm. During the two minutes when the alarm shut off, I was poised in bed, waiting for the smoke detectors to go off. At some point, it was probably around two or three, I remember getting up to go to the bathroom and still consciously hearing the alarm and wondering how it was possible that

a) it was still going off and

b) no one else had done anything about it.

It didn’t surprise me that the police had never come by, but it did disappoint me. The car wasn’t even parked directly in front of our apartment, our windows were closed and the air conditioner was on, and it still was keeping us awake. I tried to go back to bed but it really was pointless, and by the time I realized I wasn’t getting any sleep, it was too late.

About 4:30 I was in one of my brief sleep cycles when I remember hearing Jen on the phone again. The dispatcher was trying to explain to her that there was nothing they could do, this was “not a disturbance”. With the edgy annoyance of insomnia in her voice, Jen told her firmly “it’s been going off since 11 O’clock, how can that not be a disturbance?”

The dispatcher was not sympathetic to the cause, but promised to send an officer. With Jen upset, my own nerves frayed, and the history of the smoke alarm debacle, I was quickly approaching my limit. Insomnia is extremely effective at removing tolerance and replacing it with belligerence. And of course you all know from my last correspondence, I was already angry.

It wasn’t too much longer before I heard a low rumble that sounded like it might be a car. The alarm was not going off. I immediately jumped out of bed and stormed to the window in time to see a police car passing our building and turning the corner. I snapped.

I grabbed the phone in a fit of rage and hit redial. A dispatcher answered. To my best recollection, the conversation went like this:

Sean: Hi, I’m calling from the apartment complex where the car alarm has been going off ALL night.

San Antonio Police Department: OK sir, what is the address?

(As if she didn’t know about this situation? How could she not know? I played it cool.)

S: 9931 Hyatt Resort Drive—you have an officer here RIGHT NOW, he just drove right by the car.

SAPD: Is the alarm going off right now?

S: No.

SAPD: The officer is not going to just wait around. What do you want us to do?

(I lost my cool.)

S: I bet if I go down there and start yelling for six hours you’d do something about it.

SAPD: (beginning to get a little bit of attitude) Would you like to speak to police?

(Utterly flabbergasted, I am for a moment at a deliberate loss for words. I really had nothing more to say other than to tell her the alarm was going off again, which I knew would happen if I kept her on the phone long enough. It worked.)

S: (furious and now literally shouting at her) It’s going off now, let me open my goddamn window—can you hear THAT!???

SAPD: No sir, I can’t. Would you like to speak to an officer?

S: YES.

SAPD: What’s your name?

S: Sean Genovese

SAPD: What apartment?

S: 1534

SAPD: (after a few moments of silence and typing) OK.

S: So he’s going to come here?

SAPD: Yes

S: Thank you. (click)

I grabbed my slippers and damn near jumped down the stairs in my T-shirt and “sleeping shorts”, scraping the back of my heel on the way down (I’ll sue Allied for it later). Jen was not far behind me, I think she was hoping for a fight. I walked over to where the offending vehicle was parked and began pacing back and forth behind it, again wondering how I’m the only one who seemed to be bothered by this situation. Finally, about ten minutes later, the officer returned. I stormed toward the patrol car, my phone in one hand and a clenched fist in the other.

Still more to come...

San Antonio, Issue 4 Continued

OK, so maybe BRK Electronics is not a division of Allied Van Lines, but in my early morning delirium, I thought seriously about calling my “personal move coordinator” to see if she could help. With the offending alarm locked up, I finally got back to sleep and spent most of the next day fuming about the situation—especially since when I left for work I had to walk through the waterfall of a broken sprinkler to get to my car. I mustered up all the diplomacy I could and stopped at the office after work to pay the rent and report the problem. Maintenance was dispatched to replace our batteries and as he tested each alarm, I realized why the situation had been so disorienting.

While the detectors are not connected to any centralized alarms, they are connected to each other. One alarm alone is not too frightening, but when one alarm sounds, it triggers the others on a slight delay. The result is like being in an echo chamber with four piercing warbles diving in on you like vultures and picking at your ear drum. That’s also why it was so difficult to determine which alarm was the culprit. With a batch of four fresh Eveready’s, I was satisfied that our warble woes were now behind us and I could finally get my sleep on.

September 3rd, 2AM

You have got to be fucking kidding me. This time the fear and bewilderment of four smoke detectors screaming obscenities at me quickly gave way to anger. The first alarm lasted only a few seconds. I got out of bed anyway, hoping desperately for smoke and flames. Foiled again. I vowed aloud to no one in particular in very colorful terms that the next time the smoke alarm went off in the middle of the night I would make sure there was a reason for it. I got back into bed.

A minute later the air conditioning clicked on and almost simultaneously the alarms sounded again, scaring the ever-living shit out of me for the second time that night. Again, the alarm lasted only a few seconds, but all four reported. A thought occurred to me and I got up to turn off the air conditioner. Again I got back in bed, this time shutting the door, feeling hopeful and a little smug that maybe I had unraveled the mystery of the universe. Nope.

A minute later the alarms sounded again. They seemed to be offended by my closing the bedroom door because this time I heard one of them yell something obscene about my mother.

Jen was livid.

I thought she was going to head back to California right then and there. It was time to get serious; I started looking for matches to set the place on fire. While searching for the matches, I noticed the circuit breaker panel and got another idea. Unfortunately none of the breakers were clearly labeled. They all described something about receptacles, lighting, and various major appliances. I was looking for the one with “give Sean a heart attack and insult his mother” neatly printed on it. I just started flipping switches until I was standing in the dark and that ugly green light on all the smoke detectors was extinguished, pun intended. I especially didn’t appreciate the comment about my mother, so I didn’t stop there. I turned the rest of the breakers back on so I'd have some light, brought out my trusty chair and went to each one of those little bastards and took out the battery. Finally, just to make sure I had gotten my point across, I called the whole lot of them rat bastards and gave them the finger. I went to bed, again.

It was my intention to be home when maintenance came to “fix” the smoke detectors for the second time. Unfortunately they picked the one-hour window during which I went to the store (no rain), emerged from the store and walked back to my car (lots of rain), and drove back to the apartment (no rain). After I took off my wet shoes, I saw a work order on the table: “Replaced batteries in smoke detectors”. Oh thank heaven, the batteries have been replaced, again. At this point it was too late to call the office, they were gone for the day. I decided to accept defeat in this battle but resolved that under no circumstances would I lose this war. The next time I got awakened by a smoke detector in the middle of the night, I would subtract $50 from my next rent check. If the landlord didn’t like it, he could pry the money out of my cold dead hands, which at this rate would be sooner rather than later.

Those readers who have had the pleasure of an early morning wakeup call of the seismic variety will appreciate what I am about to describe. For the next few nights, Jen and I were afraid to go to sleep. We watched TV, left lights on, and stared at the ceiling. After an earthquake, every creak of a two by four or squeak of a door is a possible betrayal. You develop a sixth sense called paranoia. I even saw dead people. Here in Texas we don’t have earthquakes, we have smoke alarms. We listened for the slightest hint of nocturnal terror. If an ant had sneezed I think I would have heard it. Every time the air conditioning clicked on, I held my breath. Saturday and Sunday nights passed without incident. Then Monday came, and with it came a new sound.

More To Come...