Strangers in the Night

Friday night, 12 o'clock--Shelley and I were tucking ourselves into bed when we heard, emanating from the street below, what can only be described as a brouhaha. A horde of drinkers had assembled itself on the doorstep of the opposite building, and was showing menacing signs of staying put.

They laughed like the extras in a pirate movie, and found an implausible number of things funny. This did not gel with me. My style of sleeping is best described as 'light'--swashbuckling laughter does nothing for it. Still, I decided to chance my hand at sleeping, employing a mind trick that has served me well in the past: I would pretend I was at a party--a very boring, sleepy party--and that I was falling asleep despite all the noise.

It worked; I was off to sleep in half an half. Unfortunately, half an hour after that I was awake again to the sound of unison singing:

"I LOVE you 'CAUSE you're BEAUT-i-FUUUL … LA la LA la LA … LA la LA la LA … DO be DO be DOO be doooo BEEE! OOOOOoooowwww! [high-pitched group coyote howl]

Things were looking dire. I suffered through three encores of this, telling myself after each that it would be the last, but it never was. What could I do? I couldn't ask anyone in their state to "move on"--that would be tantamount to knocking on the door of a beehive and asking the bees to "take it somewhere else please". Only Steven Seagal does stuff like that. My pulse was rising. I needed to flick the switch from passive to active, to strike out at them, for me, and for everyone else in the world who likes to sleep. So I did something that I have never done before: I called the police.

Yes, it was a "narky" thing to do, but as soon as I hung up the phone I felt a deep sense of calm rush through me. They could sing all they wanted now. Yes, sing my Pretties, sing! For tonight you sing, but later tonight … POW!

So although I had gained some modicum of peace, I still couldn't get to sleep--I was too intent on witnessing the fruit of my phone call. I waited, minute after minute, willing them to stay just that leeetle bit longer, expecting at any moment to hear that sweet warning siren. They sang, and they sang; still no siren, still no police.

At around 2:30, the tenor of the party changed. One of the drunks took offence at something another of the drunks had said, and was shaping up for a fisticuff.

Hello, I said, what's this then? Do I have front row seats for a brawl? This might actually have been worth waiting up for!

They prodded each other's left shoulders menacingly (OK, they're just warming up, sit tight); they prodded each other's right shoulders menacingly (OK, they like to keep things symmetrical, don't we all?); they hurled abused loudly (OK, they're getting psyched up now); then they got their friends to hold them back (Oh come on! I saw this already in high school!). They were full of talk.

In the end, they managed to patch things up, and in a touching gesture of reconciliation sat down together on a parked car. This, of course, set the car alarm off, which sent them staggering down an alley, never to be seen again.

I sat up in bed and took a quick inventory of Black Eyes and Feathers in My Cap:

No drunks ...

No police ...

But definitely a siren; definitely a constant, high-pitched siren.