I’m brushing my teeth this morning when I hear shouting nearby.
“FEDERAL AGENTS! WE HAVE A SEARCH WARRANT! OPEN UP!!”
Lots of pounding, followed shortly by my heart pounding. It sounds like it’s coming from upstairs, by the front door. I find myself trying to remember if I’ve done anything illegal lately. No. And my housemate just left on vacation.
More pounding. “FEDERAL AGENTS, OPEN UP OR WE’LL BREAK DOWN THE DOOR!!”
I run upstairs and listen, trying to figure out if they’re at my front door.
No. Oh, thank God.
“FEDERAL AGENTS!! WE’RE COMING IN!!”
Suddenly I hear from behind our house a loud bang and splintering wood. I run to the back window and see uniformed men with guns drawn enter my next-door neighbor’s house. Lots of shouting. Flashlights. It’s 6:45 am.
My adrenaline is coursing through me and I’m literally shaking.
This is, by the way, a “nice” neighborhood. If you’re wondering. I don’t think my neighbor is home because things quiet down quickly. I’ve never met the neighbor, though my roommate told me that once he was at Mr. S’ leather shop and overheard the neighbor whining about the harness he just bought.
When I leave the house with Louie there are five rental-type cars in the street, and uniformed men and women walking up and down the neighbor’s steps. One of their car alarms starts to go off and the agent can’t figure out how to make it stop. They laugh at her. They’re all wearing uniforms with “DEA” on the back. A couple of them are kinda cute.
Then this morning in the locker room I see a guy next to me with two words tattooed on his butt cheeks: “Exit Only”.