That Much Closer to Getting My Car Keyed

As we have established in previous posts, I am a bit of a busy body in my building. I tend to notice goings on around my apartment and take note of them, and by take note I mean yell for Adam "HEY COME LOOK AT THIS!"

And I have now taken it to the next level.

There are two things in life I don't like (well there are MANY things but there are in the top ten for sure)

1) Ne'er do wells
2) People who think they are getting away with something when they SO are not

My two dislikes combine in the fact that for the past few months, off and on, there has been a mysterious car in my parking lot.

I don't mean mysterious like "Oh, I don't recognize that car" but mysterious like the person driving it comes into my parking lot at night, without headlights on, backs up into the furthest spot under some trees and idles there for a few hours at a time.

What could these people be doing? Why pull into a parking lot of apartments you don't live in at night without lights on and idle there in the dark under some trees?

Two words come to mind: Car Date.

Three more words follow: OH HELL NO.

I don't know if that is really what is going on, but whatever it is it's illicit if not illegal and I don't want it going on 15 feet away from where I live.

I didn't feel like I could call the police. For one thing I live in a fabulous neighborhood but on the cusp of two not so fabulous neighborhoods so they kind of have their hands full with things other than someone calling because the HJ-mobile is in their parking lot. And my landlord's typical response to this sort of thing would be "Oh.....". So Adam and I were pretty much on our own.

Until Friday night.

I got home from dinner with my cousin and as I was pulling into my spot, that same creepy black car pulled slowly into the lot, circled twice and backed into their usual spot. I sat in my car for a minute, and decided enough was enough. I got a pad of paper and a pen out of my bag and got out of my car, walked right up to the front of the cteepy car, looked right at the driver (cracked out blonde with bad roots) and blatantly wrote her license plate number down, then looked right at her again and walked into my building.

By the time I got up to my apartment she was already gone!

Victory was mine!!!

I don't know what I planned to do with that number, but I hoped that the very fact that she knew I had it would lead her to conduct her livlihood in another part of town. And if she or another creepy car comes back, right downstairs I will go again with my notepad and pen.

Call me Sarah: Concerned Citizen/Neighborhood Vigilante.

Or that old lady they always have on Law & Order episodes with her wig askew and terrycloth bathrobe who helpfully provides license plate numbers of every car she sees drive past her place.