So, I haven't been on this blog in over a year. I had just about given up blogging. Why come back? Because Friday, April 19, 2013, I was on lockdown in Watertown, Massachusetts, less than half a mile from where they arrested the 2nd suspect in the Boston Marathon bombings. And for some reason, I feel the need to blog about that.
I think most people have this idea that I was in my apartment all day, quivering in fear and trying to avoid the windows and glass. Not true. At about 12 noon, we started drinking. I had already cleaned the living room and bathroom. Then I swept the kitchen floor. I wasn't going to do an all-out kitchen clean because I just didn't have it in me after the bathroom. Then I baked a chocolate cake. That's what we had for dinner.
I had a couple of friends ask me if I wanted to speak to the news stations in their home towns (Richmond and Raleigh). I felt uncomfortable with that idea, not because I had any kind of personal protest, but because I just didn't know what was going on, so I didn't know what I could say.
News Anchor: "Can you describe the situation where you are?"
Me: "Yeah, well, the bathroom has mildew in all the little grout lines, so I spent about 20 minutes working on that."
It probably didn't help that I'd had a couple of drinks too. Ultimately, my propensity for joking during times of crises is probably not what the news stations were looking for.
I get it, of course, from my mother, who upon being alerted that my roommates and I were in lockdown in our town, said we should just have a party and drink.
We drank, but it was not a party. We kept the mood light, but that was only because the tv blared nothing but news all day. Incorrect news. Wild accusation news. I felt like running out to the Fox TV camera crew right outside of our house and begging them, "Please get just one thing right!!!"
We also listened to the police scanner all day. That felt like the most accurate thing that we could listen to. It kept cutting off, and at one point, the police went on radio silence. Probably because everyone in the United States was tweeting everything that they heard on the police scanners. But you have to ask yourself, if the police don't want everyone to know what's happening, why are there apps?
Mad bomber on the loose in your town? There's an app for that.
That's not to say that they weren't some scary moments. At 1am that morning, my roommate woke me up to tell me that something was going on. We saw the emergency vehicles flying by on our street. EVERYONE. Not just Watertown, there was Boston PD, fire vehicles, ambulances, FBI, ATF. (Later that day, we saw more of the surrounding town PDs and even a SWAT team from New Hampshire!) My roommate and I listened for 3 hours to the news and police scanner trying to determine what was happening. I had my Google maps open on my tablet to try and track exactly where they were. Comically, the traffic app told us exactly where the road blocks were and hence outlined the cordoned-off search area. At about 4am, we heard the police scanner announce that they were falling back to an HQ set up in the mall parking lot, and they would resume their search at daylight. At this point, it still seemed pretty exciting.
I went to bed then, thinking this will all be over when I wake up. But at about 7am, I heard my roommates in the living room. I was surprised to find them dressed. Through the front windows, they were watching the police search across the street. Only the exterior, yards, bushes, parking lots, etc. But then they saw them storm the Starbucks. (For coffee?) In that moment, I had to make a decision that I didn't like contemplating. Wait and see? or be ready to be searched? Hope for the best, prep for the worst. I got dressed, I brushed my teeth, I got ready to go outside.
I think what made that decision so heavy was the realization then that they still hadn't found him. At that hour of the morning, having seen so many law enforcement arrive, I was thinking, "why haven't they found him yet?" And the only answer that made sense then was, "Because he's escaped."
That was the most frightening thought of all.
Of course, when they did find him, it made perfect sense why not. They didn't find him because he'd actually found a really good hiding place and hadn't moved all day. The dogs couldn't trace him because they didn't have anything with his scent.
This doesn't explain why a regular guy who's been in lockdown all day because of a manhunt for a killer with a gun and bombs thinks the reasonable course of action when he sees a trail of blood and a ripped tarp on his boat is to just go check it out all by himself.
World's luckiest guy.
It does reveal that the guy, the 2nd suspect, the 19 year old Chechen, is just a scared, stupid kid. I hate what he did. And I feel so bad for him.
Meanwhile, Boston can surprise you. These are a loud and aggressive people, whose very idea of entitlement allowed them to say, "F*#$ you, King George!! We'll start our own freakin' country!" They are tenacious. They found him.
And they are grateful. They poured out in streams to cheer the law enforcement at the scene. Right at our intersection, there were hundreds of us, cheering for each and every one who passed us. For the whole weekend after, the pride continued. People thanked them on the street. People bought coffee for them randomly. There were thank-you signs everywhere.
The heart swells.
So I updated my Facebook page to say that I'm currently living in Watertown, MA. You know, now that everyone knows where it is.
