The conclusion of Melissa’s post…
I ran to buzz whoever was downstairs, into the building. I listened and watched from the peephole. It’s completely dark in the hallway — they are not using the hall lights. I can just see cops in uniform, sliding silently up the stairs with guns drawn. Oh god!
Then I hear commotion, and steps coming back down the stairs. Someone rings the doorbell from outside my door. The hall lights are on now, it’s the two faces from down in the street.
I yell through the door, “quien es?”
“Policia” is the reply.
I open the door and the two faces are the undercover cops who start talking excitedly. Saying what? I don’t know.
As I watch the uniformed cops go back down the stairs, I say to the ones in front of me, “repita despacio por favor?” And I begin to understand.
They are somewhat disdainful and tell me it was a technico from Orange installing fibre optic. Just a technico, lady.
Really? At 4am? In the rain? On a Saturday night? I asked the two plainclothes cops (in Spanish) if they saw his ID. They look at each other and then begin fumbling for their shields under their clothes, to show to me. See, what did I tell you about my Spanish?
I gave up at that point and just said, “es muy raro, no? A las 4 de la madrugada, un technico? un poco estraño, no?”
They sort of shrug, look at one another, and seem to admit that I had a point.
Anyone I’ve told this to has had a hard time believing it. But I have my texts to my husband to prove it was real, and quite bizarre. It only happens when my husband is out of town.