"All we want are the facts, ma'am"

As I've mentioned before, I'm a big fan of radio shows from the 40's through 60's. I especially like the detective dramas, like Johnny Dollar, Dragnet, and Broadway is my Beat. Sometimes I'm suspicious of how realistic they really were, even though I know shows like Dragnet aimed for authenticity. For example, the victims always remember so much: "Oh, he was 5'9", maybe 5'10", and had brown hair. Medium build, and a scar over his left eye." I was convinced that I'd never remember details like that, and unfortunately (that's some foreshadowing for you) I got my chance to try out my memory today.

I had taken the cat to the vet and was driving out of the driveway, and this women motioned for me to roll down my window to ask a question. She needed a lift, just a few blocks, could I help her out, her car had been stolen recently. She needed to find her sister, did I work at the vet, boy had she had a terrible day. She talked fast, always moving around, adjusting the shopping bag she was carrying. I was juggling a cat (secured in a pillowcase, as she always is for trips), trying to figure out where she wanted to go, and mentally calculating whether she was crazy. I mean that literally, she reminded me of someone I knew who has schizophrenia; that guy wasn't ever dangerous, but he did need a lot of guidance. The whole event lasted maybe two minutes. Suddenly she saw where she needed to get out, and even offered to pay me gas money. Nice touch, that.

When I got home, I realized she had managed to slip her hand behind my seat, open my purse, and rob me of my wallet. I'm sort of grateful that she didn't steal the cell phone as well, because that made it easier to call and cancel every credit and bank card.

Now, I am no Dragnet victim. I couldn't tell you her hair color, her build, anything. I had my eyes on the road, after all, and I was looking for the hotel she said she needed to get to. In the end, it didn't matter that I couldn't describe her because the police didn't care. I filled out a form at the station, waited an hour, and then they assigned me a case number and sent me home without having anyone talk to me.

(My life has been full of drama lately. Today was Dragnet, but later this week I'll treat you to Kafka.)