I have this character flaw that, unfortunately, comes to many people who work in the news. Only I had it long before I was ever even interested in working at a paper. I actually believe I was born with it.It's sort of a hope for bad things to happen. I call it backwards pessimism. Take, for example, when Y2K didn't produce mass hysteria I was terribly disappointed. I mean, the microwave didn't even break down.
I remember, years later, carefully listening to the police scanner at work as details of a terrible accident unfolded. I wasn't even going to cover this story, but I thought of it as just that - a story, and a captivating one that everyone would read first the next day. It wasn't until I read my co-worker's article in the paper the next day that I realized how horrific my original reaction of excitement had been.
These awful feelings rose back to the surface yesterday as I drove past a house in my neighborhood. The property was swaddled with police tape and cops and I knew something bad had happened there. I gawked like the rest of the drivers creeping past the crime scene. Only I think I was more interested than the other drivers.
Earlier this year, I bought these awesome vintage boots (pictured) and patterns on that very lawn from the older couple living in that very house. I drove home yesterday, wondering what those elderly folks could possibly have done to warrant that swarm of police officers. Of course I imagined the worst and I checked the news periodically throughout the rest of the day to find out what it was.
Turns out that yard sale was likely a moving sale for the older couple now living in Florida. Their renter, however, allegedly murdered a man early yesterday morning in their home. So, of course, I can't keep this to myself. I'm not happy about a murder two blocks from my house. But am I awful to admit that I think this makes my boots even cooler?
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9 comments:
Woah.
You are sick and twisted. And those boots are frickin' tight (Meaning cool... it's lingo. You wouldn't understand).
that makes your boots soooo much cooler!
much much
You kill me... wait, no don't kill me.
Haha that's awesome. You will always need to tell that story whenever someone admires your boots.
I still can't get past the fact that you bought those boots at a old couples garage sale. Did the old lady wear them? Pretty styling old lady.
& the Y2K thing I'm with ya on that one I totally wanted to see guys on their front porch with shootguns protecting the food storage. (I was living in Utah)
You're definitely not alone in your morbidness! A couple summers ago as an intern I was thrilled the first time a voice came across the scanner with the code for homicide. There was an adrenaline rush as I looked for the address and the yellow police tape. But then I remembered the man had a family somewhere, the body in the road with a sheet over it was real, and that someone would likely be spending the rest of their life in prison. It was then I suddenly remembered why writing for The Statesman or Hard News Cafe would always be more fun than the night cops beat. =) And it DEFINITELY makes your boots cooler.
Vintage boots are awesome even if they didn't somehow have a connection to murder.
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