2007-08-30
CSI: Madison
We opened the door to the Terrordome (our apartment) to discover an invoice for $40 taped to the door with the additional explanation "clean up vomit in hallway." Momentary panic ensued before we realized that we were not being asked to "clean up vomit in hallway" - we were being billed for somebody else to "clean up vomit in hallway." Neither Myka nor I had recollection of vomiting anywhere in the recent past, much less in the hallway, so we were left perplexed and brimming with questions. To whom did this vomit belong? And more importantly, could we bill them for $40?
Inquiries were made everywhere we could think to do so, but all were met with denial. We were frustrated. And angry. Clearly this masked vomiter thought he would get away with his crime. Thankfully, in this assumption he was sorely mistaken.
Theives, vandalizers, public urinators, and hallway vomiters, be warned: this building is swathed in security cameras. Once you step in the front door, please be assured that you are being filmed. And if during your time as a guest of my apartment you should choose to excrete bodily fluids in the hallway and then flee the scene, please be assured that the denizens of 807 will be reviewing the security tapes the next morning.
Our gracious maintenance guy accepted our apologies and agreed to show us the footage of the drive-by vomiting. As suspected, it was a stranger who had chanced to stumble, uninvited, upon our evening festivities. Masterful detective work identified him as the resident of a first-floor apartment. Maintenance Guy was apologetic that we had to take the fall for another man's crime, and partially compensated for our misfortune by allowing us to view tape of other entertaining apartment building crimes (peeing in the hallway! Stealing fire extinguishers! Making out in the elevator!). He urged us to, in the future, "stick to smoking pot at parties" to minimize vomit-related damage and printed out a picture of the culprit so we could track him down.
When the vomiter didn't answer his door, Myka scrawled a vaguely impolite note demanding $40 on our security camera photo and we left it there for him to discover. With our mystery solved we should have been jubilant, but in truth it was bittersweet. For a moment, I had thought I might finally have achieved my lifelong aspiration of having my own personal crime story featured on Cold Case, but now that the myster is solved... ah well. Another dream deferred.
zebrasaur at 10:50 a.m.
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