Calling the Police

Rexburg is a strange city; full of college folk and young thriving families, there is a lot of boredom that happens. Devoid of Target, a mall, Nordstrom and a 24 hour Wal-Mart, hoodlums roam the street with nothing to do. I experienced the scariness and excitement deprived-ness of my fellow co-eds (but not really co-eds) last night, on one of the strangest Fourth of July's (which happened on a Sunday...). I was sitting at my desk, quietly. Ignoring the firework mayhem outside, I was studying like a good student.

Suddenly my ears perked up when I heard a strange, distinctive noise. The front door of our apartment opened with the loudest screech; an undeniable sound. After the door opened, I stood in my room frozen and waiting; obnoxious giggling filled the front room. Shortly thereafter, I heard the door shut quickly. Freaked out I stood paralyzed in my room for a couple more minutes. I decided after a little while it was safe to walk into the family room. I peaked out our blinds and saw hoodlums everywhere across the lawn and hanging out in our stairwell. It really freaked me out.

So I called the Rexburg police.

Yes, the police.

I expected I would tell them what happened (which I did) and they would come, drive by in a patrol car (which they did) and that would be the end (but it was not).

The policeman came to my door, knocking and yelling "Rexburg police!" Really not expecting any of this, I opened the door shocked. He came in and I told him what happened; he then proceeded to check our apartment for bogeymen. He shined his flashlight all over. I didn't tell him that my roommate was asleep, and I became concerned when he started yelling, "THIS IS THE REXBURG POLICE DEPARTMENT! IF YOU ARE IN THIS APARTMENT AND YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE, REVEAL YOURSELF NOW!"

Luckily, she stayed asleep. Whew! So, after he checked our big scary pantry (that is exactly where I would hide, with all the Oreo's and Cheez-Its!) I asked him if he wouldn't mind looking in our shower because the shower curtain was closed. Luckily, nothing was in there. Relieved, I accompanied him to the door, dead bolted it, and went back to sleep. He also gave me a lecture to always lock our door, despite living 5 minutes from the temple in Rexburg, Idaho; the only college town with a curfew.

What a crazy Fourth of July. I typically try not to involve the police in my activities, but sometimes it's unavoidable. Some of you may know the story of intruders in our house on Newhall when my parents were in Chicago. I think both of these events have transpired in result of home intruder paranoia, AKA sclerophobia.


Over the past several years I have had two incidences and counting with sclerophobia. Hopefully I begin to overcome the fear slowly and surely, or else I will have a police escort checking the shower for me with every visit to the bathroom.