Today we hit the tailor to pick up the bridesmaids’ dresses. When we got there, we could see as we approached the door she was out to lunch. Two guys were leaving the tenant space next door, and we remembered our parking job: “Is the van okay here?” They mumbled something and kept walking. So we headed up to read the fine print on the door, at which time we heard behind us, “Put your hands up.” Of course, all five of us thought, “Wow, this town is serious about their parking violations!”
We looked to see four squad cars surrounding the van, guns drawn. As we stood there staring like five deer in eight headlights (and some blue ones too), an officer looked at us and said, “Go inside.”
Of course, the tailor was still at lunch! We were huddled on a small porch with a locked door!
We instinctively headed single-file toward the back. As we walked, it occurred to me: “This skirmish is only 20 feet away! The policemen’s guns were aimed the other way, but was the perpetrator armed?” I scurried quicker. ‘Felt like a mother hen gathering her chicks—but I expect I was more afraid than they were.
We were met by another tenant, and soon thereafter, one of the two guys we’d just talked with. I made a joke: “Drop the jacket.” He assured us his heart was beating as fast as ours were. [He was a customer of the business next door (clearly a front).]
The other tenants said the other guy had been arrested earlier on a drug charge, and they had observed the police staking out the place.
Well, since the cops had us blocked in, the tailor was still out to lunch, and the sun was shining, we walked down the street and got coffee until things cooled off.
After awhile, we called and she had re-opened. The police were still there (searching the premises), but had cleared the way for our vehicle to leave once we completed our mission.
She had altered the dresses perfectly. I’ll go back there again. But maybe next time I’ll start with a stake-out.