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16 March 2009 @ 10:06 pm
Weekend Fun  
Saturday Night
I had to call the police. First time for everything, right? One of the Rinconada residents came in to the clubhouse and said she had been driving and saw a garage door left open. The car parked inside had its trunk open, and there was mail scattered on the ground in front of it. The front entrance to the home, which leads into a little courtyard before you get to the main door, was also wide open. She was worried that something unusual happened, and wanted me to make the traffic control 'guard' go up and investigate. I told Worried Lady that he's not security, and he isn't supposed to leave the gate for that sort of thing. So she asked me to do it.
At this point I'm just looking at her like she's crazy. What does Worried Lady think I'm going to be able to do? I tell her I can call the resident and see if he's home, so I do. There's no response, so she begs me again to go up with her to investigate. I finally agree because the person who owns the house lives there alone, and if something has gone wrong no one else is going to know to help him.
So we go up to the house and it's just as Worried Lady said. Garage is open, garage light is flashing, etc. She had picked up the mail earlier, so it's no longer scattered on the floor, and now she's worried that her fingerprints are on the envelopes. (??) I knock on the front door and call 'Hello?' a few times, but again I'm mostly wondering what this lady thinks I'm supposed to do. I'm the freaking Clubhouse assistant, not the general manager. I'm certainly not authorized to enter someone's house without permission, and even if I did and found a body on the floor, I don't know CPR.
So I go back to the Clubhouse and the whole way back, the Worried Lady's telling me to call 911, call the police, etc. The car in the garage was plugged into the wall, and she thinks it's a bomb or something. I know that the car isn't rigged to explode - it looks like the plug might be for some sort of homemade-hybrid-battery-charger-thing - but I am worried that the resident might be inside with some sort of injury. I mean, what if he felt the pangs of a heart attack as he was plugging his car in, so he staggered into the house and collapsed somewhere inside? (Again, the resident lives alone, and since his car was there it seemed likely that he was home. And it was weird how everything was left open.) But part of me keeps whining, "If she thinks it's so important to call the police, why doesn't she do it?" So I call one of my co-workers who has been with the Clubhouse several years because I figure she'll know what to do. She suggests calling the Los Gatos police directly (NOT 911) so I do, and the dispatcher agrees to send someone out.
After a few minutes (probably 10?) a police car arrives and goes up to the house, and by the time the gets there (Worried Lady and I follow in her car) the garage has been closed up. Officer goes and talks to the resident for a few minutes, and the resident looks FINE. I'm probably glaring at Worried Lady, because when I called the police I gave them my name because she was too freakin' chicken to do it, and that officer probably thinks I'm ten kinds of crazy. He comes out after bidding the resident good night, and I apologize like one hundred times for making him come out for no reason. He's very nice about it, though. (Strange as it may sound, I've yet to meet a mean policeman. Except for this one jerk back in high school who wouldn't listen and took me back to school for truancy one day after class, but he was just trying to do his job. Anyway.) Worried Lady's husband apologizes for his wife's paranoia, and I'm left alone at the Clubhouse to fill out an incident report half an hour before closing. What a pain.
I'm glad everything was fine and dandy with the resident, though. Turns out he just forgot to close his garage door when he left the house. He probably won't make that mistake again for a while. :-p

Sunday I went up to the Legion of Honor in San Francisco to study some Renaissance paintings and write up a paper for my art teacher. I'd actually been to the Legion before, but I didn't remember this until we started walking around the galleries. It's a pretty neat museum; not the most extensive collection on display but nice. Sean took this photo of me taking notes under the The Adoration of the Magi by Bartolomeo di Giovanni.

The painting didn't look that big hanging on the wall, but if curled up in a ball I could probably fit inside it. So weird.
In the special exhibits gallery the Legion was showcasing Faberge eggs, Tiffany glass and Lalique jewelry. I was more excited by the Alphonse Mucha prints, but hey, Art Nouveau and turn-of-the-century art is always pretty fantastic. I can't wait to study it next quarter.
Markying_ko_4 on March 17th, 2009 03:07 pm (UTC)
It's a good thing all worked out well. Better to call the police and not need them, than to need them and not call them. I'd be willing to bet the officer was pleased it wasn't anything serious.

You did the right thing, slightly embarrassing outcome or not.

And looking at that picture, you look so comfortable sitting there with your notebook. It's a neat photo.
Paul Linh Nguyenanimekid on March 18th, 2009 01:59 am (UTC)
Glad it turned out okay on that police call...
And hopefully the resident took it well too...better to know someone out there helps keep an eye and does something because they're worried (at least in a good way). That is...better than the alternative of not having anyone notice.

oooo the Legion of Honor...feels like it's been a while since I have been there. Nice place indeed. Now when the actually play the organ...so fricken nice~

Nice picture...hehe...that is weird when you put it in that perspective of you fitting in there if you curled up XD