Don't Look Gladys

I really had to use the bathroom. My eyeballs were floating and I could hold it no more. I locked the front door to the office and waddled knees locked together to my car. I drove as fast as possible the fifteen blocks to the What-A-Burger where I knew sweet relief waited. You see we had just moved into a new office and my boss had not yet had turned on the water. I would bring in bottled water for hand washing and other essentials but really when it comes to the toilet, you want a functioning service. I, being the diligent and devoted employee, came in to work instead of insisting on working toilets and electricity before I began unpacking boxes and putting files in order.

I rushed into the burger joint as quickly as my knocked knees would carry me. I was sucking in air and clenching muscles which had not been used in a while until I finally made it to my deliverance. Relieved I walked out into the restaurant and ordered up a big tall glass of iced tea. The girls knew me well by now as I would use their facilities several times a day and always buy a drink as my payment for the ability to flush. Trust me if you have never had to go without functioning bathroom facilities then you wouldn’t understand why you should go hug your working indoor plumbing.

I grabbed my 120 oz plastic cup of strong iced tea and headed towards my waiting vehicle. The counter girl smiled and waved goodbye knowing I would be back soon. Now this particular What-A-Burger was located conveniently next to a bank. The bank was located conveniently next to a “Rent Your Rims” store. Yes, you can actually rent rims for your low-pro 20 inchers. These businesses were all located just blocks from my office which was located in one of the worst neighborhoods in the city. The homeless often hung out in the parking lot of the fast food restaurant as did many of the local gang members with their pants belted around their knees. The electrical lines above the parking lot were littered with tennis shoes dangling in their glory. Now I’m going to divert here and ask a question. If there are 40 pairs of sneakers draped over an electrical line how do you know which drug dealer to approach. When you call them do you say “Is this Mr. Pink Sparklie Sketcher’s? No? Oh you’re Mr. Nike Air. Sorry I got the wrong shoes”? Get the idea? It was not a safe neighborhood.

I had just placed my Jug-O-Tea into the cup holder and forced the 4 foot straw through the hole. I sucked in a mouthful of ice cold tea and started my car. That’s when I felt the jolt to my car. I looked up to see a young man bounce off the hood of my car then take off across the parking area, running and holding his pants in one hand and a bag in the other. I sat perfectly still trying to take in what was happening. Then I saw a man run out of the bank yelling “Stop HIM!” I was frozen. I could not move a muscle. I sat watching the scene play out in front of me like I was watching an episode of COPS. I heard the police rather than saw them barking at people to get out of the way. I sat in my car, face pressed against the glass watching the drama play out.

The officer ran toward my vehicle then around the front of it. His 300 pound 6 foot frame lumbering and sweating in the 90% humidity and the 100 degree heat. He had his gun drawn and was huffing and puffing trying to keep up with the kid in the baggy pants. A second much leaner and younger officer came from behind the What-A-Burger gaining on the perpetrator. I sat stunned and mesmerized as I watched the baggy panted bank robber run right out of his untied sneakers. He kept running through the parking area past “Rent-A-Rim” and through the “Church Of The Mall” parking area. The young officer almost had him when the young perp put on some speed and broke away. Unfortunately so did the strap on his bag. The bag went flying and money floated through the air like a dollar bill snow storm. Things only went downhill from there for our get-a-way boy. His pants had worked their way from his thighs to his knees and he was running penguin style.

The young officer saw his opportunity and again yelled for the perp to stop. The perp turned to see how much of a lead he had on the officer. You could tell by the look on his face that he was trying to decide if he had enough of a head start that he could get away or did he just need to lie down and surrender. Evidently he thought he could make a run for it and he picked up his socked feet in an attempt to once again push his adrenaline into the red-lined zone. It must have been the twisting and the forward movement that caused his pants complete with his boxer shorts to drop around his ankles. This resulted in his feet tangling in the wad of clothes which caused him to fall face first onto the rough pitted hot asphalt. Then he slid like a runner into home plate. He slid belly first face planted into the ground. The young officer heaving and blowing caught up with him and planted a knee on the perp’s back. He took a moment both men breathing hard then began reading him his rights and handcuffing him. His overweight partner caught up with them at this point and they hauled the thief to his feet. Then they walked him back to their squad car in front of the What-A-Burger pants around his ankles, road rash on his private parts. I bet next time he robs a bank he will wear pants that fit.