Spying on the Neighbors

I unfortunately look more like Jimmy Stewart than Grace Kelly when I do my spying
This story has nothing to do with food. It's just so nuts that I had to share it.

Eugene's alarm wakes us up most mornings at 7AM. He usually gets up and starts getting ready, while I roll over into the middle of the bed and keep on sleeping. It's not until he kisses me good-bye, just before 8AM, that I usually start my day. But this morning was a bit different.

This morning, it wasn't the alarm that pulled me out of bed, but rather the banging in the hallway and shouts of "OPEN UP! FBI!"


I shot up in bed, confused and wondering if I'd dreamed it, but then it happened again. The banging, then "OPEN UP! THIS IS THE FBI! OPEN THE DOOR!" I checked the clock and it was about 6AM.

Eugene was fast asleep next to me, not even stirring. I realized that the banging was on the neighbor's door, not mine, and I crept up to the door slowly to try to listen. I initially assumed it must be the sketchy neighbor two doors down (the one who just got back from a stay in prison for drug-related infractions), but to my surprise, it was actually the apartment immediately next door. The apartment occupied by a very sweet, middle-aged Mennonite Christian lady.

Mennonites. Please keep this image in mind throughout the rest of the story.

I heard the door open and there was a trample of feet, I'm assuming as the agents stormed into her apartment. The woman was crying and confused. I heard her say, "What's going on? Please I'm in my underwear. What is going on?"

At this point I had my eye in the peephole, trying to see what was going on [I'm SUCH a nosy neighbor.] The hallway was filled with about 8 or 9 FBI agents in big thick navy flak jackets emblazoned with the FBI logo in gold lettering and carrying serious guns and radios.

9 FBI agents and one very terrified Mennonite lady.

The FBI agent started asking her if anyone else was in the apartment and showing her pictures of some men, asking if they were there. The woman kept crying saying, "I don't know who these people are. It's just me, here. I'm a Mennonite Christian and I was just getting ready for work."

They asked her if she'd seen any of the men in the building, and she replied that she didn't really talk to many people in the building. [Which is true--I've only spoken to her twice since she moved in; once at the tree-trimming party, and once when she asked me to come help her with her circuit box because she is AND I QUOTE "not used to electricity."]

I think at this point the FBI agents started to realize their serious mistake. They were pacing up and down the hall, saying things on their radio. The woman was shaking and explained that she'd bought the apartment in foreclosure about a year ago, and the agents asked her who the previous owner was, but she was too nervous to remember. She just kept saying "It was an Asian name, some kind of Asian name."

The FBI agent started apologizing very sincerely, then the door shut, and they headed down the hall, saying something on their radios. One of them said that they would have to "ask Dave."

I have no idea who Dave is, but I think he's in trouble.

Once the agents were gone, I ran back into the bedroom and was amazed that Eugene was still fast asleep (Seriously?!?). I woke him up and told him the story, feeling incredibly wired and excited, and we spent some time speculating about whether the lady's Mennonite thing was really just an elaborate cover for some kind of nefarious activities.

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