Double Flee A

damn thieves

And me with no renters insurance.

Last night, as you will no doubt recall after obsessively checking my blog, I slept long and deep, like some great big submarine. In air conditioned comfort I snoozed, as did the lovely J, and in another bedroom (what kind of place do you think this is?), and with his own air conditioner, so did my brother. So deeply did we sleep we didn't hear someone walk into the house downstairs, move the rest of the bicycles out of the way, and steal the lovely J's bicycle.

Bicycle thieves in Minneapolis are relentless. I have never heard of a place with as many bicycles stolen as here. I myself have had four stolen, one of them twice. Long story. One was stolen from the spot where J's was stolen from. That was the one that was stolen twice. It was stolen by a man of the latin persuasion. I know this because of my very unlikely and almost unbelievable recovery of it that took place, which obviously preceded its second theft. Anyway, that was maybe five years ago. So Mexican people know there are bikes here. There are, in fact, nine and a half bicycles that I know of at this residence. I guess you can never have too many when they're getting stolen all the time.

Outside the back door this morning was a piece of shit red bike, rusted at parts, bearing the title on the top bar: "l.a. cruisin'". It was left there by whatever diminutive individual rode off on my fiancee's bike. We know he left that way, too, because there is a little hallway that goes out the second floor which is normally blocked off by (what else?) a bicycle. That bicycle, which is nicer than hers, though less shiny, and my bicycle, were moved, so that he could take her bicycle. Not only that, but when I was listening to my brother tell the parts of the story so far that I didn't know yet, but over his shoulder I noticed something wrong with the window. It was open.

I live on the third floor of a house. There's a stairwell which was used by the little* Mexican** thief, which goes all the way from the third floor, past the second, to the first floor and out. Obviously if you can get to the second there's nothing stopping you from the third, so he came up here, looked in my living room window, opened it, and left. Because of how ungodly drafty this place is, the lovely J and I put that hardcore 3M plastic wrap over the windows. When summer came, we left it on the windows in the back of the house and in the bathroom, because we never open those anyway. I guess he saw the plastic wrap but thought it might wake somebody up so he left. But why not come back? There's free stuff in my house, and not a lot of resistance. A precedent has been set, and I fully expect his enthusiastic and timely return.

So far we're just down a hundred bucks or so, but if I don't want to start writing this blog from a cafe, something will need to change. Now come the questions of how long till renters insurance can be got and how to booby trap the apartment in the meantime.

*The bike he rode was adjusted for a really short person.
**Mexicans have stolen bikes from here before, and are comparatively short. In no way is the revelation that he is a Mexican intended to disparage our respectable, hardworking neighbors to the south.

posted by dale @ 8:47 PM