Once in a while something happens....

....that you wouldn't believe if you saw it in a play.

This is one of those things.

I'm gonna post this in my blog, but wanted to get it out right away.

When Lisa and I (and Joanna, who we were driving home) went out to get the car after Paul's party, we discovered it wasn't there. Which we found surprising, as you can imagine.

Lisa had left her cell phone in the car, so I wandered up the block calling it, in case we had both had a massive brain hemmorage and not parked the car where we thought we had. It was a long shot, but what the hey. No luck, though.

So we went back inside and asked if there was a parking restriction we didn't know about. Paul didn't know of any, but as they had just moved in, we decided to check with the authorities and see if the car had been towed. Marjorie and Paul ran off to find the phone books....

....and that's when my phone rang. It was the Sesame Street Theme. Only one number rings my phone with that song.

It was Lisa's phone calling me.

"Hello?" I said, tentatively.

"Hello. Who is this?" came back a heavily accented voice. Latino.

"Who is this?" I reply. "Where is my car?" (OK, it's not my car, it's Lisa's car, but this was no time for explanations."

"I will bring it back to you."

Um?

"What?" I ask, barely daring to believe this.

"I will bring it back to you. A few blocks away. No police. Nothing taken."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. I'll call you back."

And he's gone.

What the holy hell? We all stand around on Paul's front porch, flabbergasted. Laughing. Stunned. We speculate. Why would they call? Who is this? A father who discovered his son had boosted the car? A guy suddenly struck with massive regret? A few minutes pass.

The phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Hey Brian (freaking caller ID) I'm on my way. No police. About 25 minutes, I'll leave it 4 blocks away."

"Ok. Four blocks. Twenty five minutes. Everything in it?"

"Everything. Except about 15 dollars."

"But what happened?"

"I needed a car. Sorry. I'll bring it back."

Brilliant.

"25 minutes. I'll call back."

So we stand around. What should we do? Eventually we decide, promises aside, we better report this to the police. What if the car was used in a crime? What if this is a dodge and he just wanted 25 minutes to get out of town?

So Lisa uses my phone to call 911. And is, of course, placed on hold. When she finally gets a live person, they tell her it's not an emergency and to call the non-emergency line. I decide to do this, and start a report. They tell me that it will be set as a low priority call, and when we hear from the guy, to call 911 (we tried that, lady) and then it will be bumped up and a cop will meet us at the car.

We stand around and wait. And laugh a bit. And worry. And most of the guests at the party (who we don't know) leave. Paul and Marjorie are still there, of course, and Joanna (she still needs a ride) and Dan Ruiz, who is mostly hanging out in case WE need a ride. And Dan hasn't slept in about 36 hours, since he works overnights and we had two shows and then the party on Sunday. He's tired, and a total trooper, and we owe him a lot.

Lisa and I start thinking about what's in the car. Her purse, that's a big one. Cash card, license, all that good stuff. My XM radio. My house keys (but not my car key - I lost it last week) My scripts for the next two shows I'm in. All my costumes from Macbeth, including my only suit. My shoes that I'm contractually required to bring to the Theatre Barn. Oh, and there is the little factor of me needing to get to Seattle for a flight Monday night. Paul graciously offers to drive me there if we need him to. These are good friends.

Someone wonders if the reason they are bringing the car back is that my combat clothes are in the back seat covered in what would appear to be blood (even though it smells like soap.) This amuses us, and would be a great plot twist if we ever write this into a play.

A cop drives by, and doesn't stop. The turns around and comes back. I'm nervous, because I don't want the thief to see him and freak out, but he's well over his 25 minute deadline by now anyway - hope is fading. I try to call Lisa's phone again - it's off. We're screwed.

We give Officer Burley all the details. He has lots of questions, most of which he admits up front will sound stupid. He tells us what to expect. There is a brief flash of hope when there is a report that the car has been spotted on the freeway (moving away from us - fuckers) but they lose him - he was moving fast, and they don't do high speed chases of stolen cars - it ends up being counter-intuitive. All hope is lost.

A few of Paul and Marjories new neighbors drive by (this was a housewarming party) no doubt wondering why the new folks have so many cop cars in front of their house.

The officer heads back to his car to leave, and suddenly, from my pocket come the sounds of the Sesame Street theme. I head up by the garage to answer (don't want the cop radio to squack.)

"It's at Kmart"

"What?"

"Kmart, man. Up on Sandy and 110."

I'm having a hard time understanding this dude. Seriously. And I don't know this area of Portland all that well.

"Where? Sandy?"

"Yeah. Everything's in it."

"Uh....thanks?"

I go tell the others, who are gathered at the police car. Sandy and 110? That's a lot more than 4 damn blocks, I'll tell you that.

The officer is on the horn, I need to pee, so I go into the house. Paul, who has been insisting that we are going NOWHERE alone (thanks again, seriously, man) asks if we want him to drive with us over there. I said it was up to him, but that Dan was willing to drive us over - the officer was concerned the car might not be drivable. As were walking back, we hear the officer say he's going to.

"Dude - go with the guy with the gun," Paul says. Possibly the best line of the night.

We head to the cop car. Officer Burley (this is his real name, actually) tells us that we probably don't want to ride in his car, since he had some "dirty guys" in there last. We opt to go with Dan and Joanna. When we get in the car, Dan cautions me against saying cop, as it's a derogatory term. "Still?" I wonder? I decide to ask Officer Burley. "Oh, you mean hot police man?" Dan says. Heh.

It really IS a long way - but we get there, and there's the car, and about four cop cars. Apparantly they got there about 30 seconds after I got the call. But they didn't catch the guy.

We scour the car. And if you can believe this, the only things missing are Lisa's cash (about $18.07 - they took the change...), and the six pack of beer in the back seat. The whole car was tossed - they looked through her purse, leaving her unemployment check, which was already signed. We found a McDonalds receipt for $30 or so - at least four sodas, so that's four people. You're welcome for dinner guys. They charged it on Lisa's credit card anyway (the one she thought was maxed) so she gets that back. My suit was on the floor, but it was there. I don't even think they went in the trunk, so the theory about the bloody combat gear was for naught. We couldn't find Lisa's cell phone for a while, but eventually found it to the side of the drivers seat.

This means they called from the car. This means the police missed them by less than 30 seconds. I should have kept him talking.

For the longest time, we couldn't find my teacher ID from Hillsboro, but later discovered they had hung it from the driver's side shade. Why???

The drive shaft has been broken out so they could hotwire the car. I can't get it started. The cops kind of imply they know how to do it, but arent' allowed to tell us, so.... shit. We have to get it towed. It's like 3 AM now, and Lisa's insurance company is being a bitch about telling us what they'll cover or which tow company to go with, so the officer just calls a tow himself, and then he has to go - leaving Lisa, Joanna, Dan and I standing there in the Kmart parking lot in the dark. But he had other calls and I get that. Officer Burley was actually a great guy (and a former HS Physics teacher). And he said "cop" is not derogatory in Portland, but that its a regional thing, so be careful elsewhere. We are big fans of Officer Burley.

So Lisa is still on the phone fighting with credit card agencies and the bank and stuff (cash card) and the tow guy shows up, drives through the parking lot, doesn't see us, and leaves. We're freaking out. But he comes back, sees Dan's headlights, comes over. He's about 14. Or maybe 20. He asks what's up, looks at the car, shows me how to start it (seriously, there was a little dial they had pulled out that I had to turn. Crazy.) I ask how much that's gonna be. He says $119. I'm shocked and tell him so. He says to give him a second, calls in to his office, and then says "You're all good. No charge." I shake his hand and thank him. I should have given him a tip. Speedy Towing in Portland, you're ok with me.

We move all my stuff back into our car from Dan's (we thought he was going to take us home) and he whacks his head on the hatchback. This poor guy. No sleep for 2 days, dragging around town with us, damn near getting a concussion. Give this man a medal. Or a beer. Or a hot cop.

We take off, Lisa's STILL fighting with the credit card and insurance companies (actually, still is as of this writing). We end up taking Joanna home because she lives near us. We get lost in an unfamiliar area of town, but finally find the freeway out at 180th. (I actually know this part of town from subbing) and head home. I'm starving, and mention this - both Joanna and Lisa concurr (she's finally off the phone) so we whip up to Taco Bell, and Joanna offers to pay. Another hero in a night of heroes.

Paul, Dan, Joanna, the much-maligned Portland Police and a Tow Truck Company. Shit, even the guy who stole the car brought the damn thing back. It sucked, but it could have been a lot worse.

Are we done with the Macbeth curse now? Three broken swords, three car incidents (two accidents, one theft.) Sounds like enough to me.