Living the Wally Lifestyle
Know Where To Park
October 18, 1998
About a week ago, I was introduced to a rather different way of protecting a car. Some people might use the Club, an alarm or the condition of their car to help protect it from prowlers. In Seattle we have an additional way of protecting you car, you can intrust it to the care of Elvis.
Thats right, Elvis.
Elvis is a living, breathing man that lives in the doorway of Masin's Furniture store in Pioneer Square. If you park in front of the store and give Elvis something that he can use, he will protect your car. Elvis can use cans of soda, sandwiches, a nice shirt or even cash. In return, not only will Elvis be grateful, but he will also dissuade others from breaking into your car.
Friday night I knew about the system, but the street was full, so I parked a block away in front of Seattle Lighting. It might as well been in Siberia for all Elvis would care because that is not his territory. I am not sure which benevolent angel watches that block, but I will tell you, it needs one.
I had just come out of the Friday show for the Pork Filled Players so I had a car full of props, CD's used for sound cues, and a trunk full of Pyro Boy related things for my test with the Fire Marshal for an upcoming Pyro Boy show. I stopped by the Comedy Underground to say hello to the manager, chat a bit and head home. It was late and I needed to get up quite early. I was gone about 15 minutes when I came back to my car and I noticed glass on my passenger seat. The kind of fragmented glass chunks that come from a broken window. I was wondering why I could see those but not the black bag that was on the car floor when I realized that I couldn't see it because it was not there. Then I quickly figured out that the broken glass, which was not there before, came from the passenger side window which was also not there. Someone had smashed my window and grabbed my bag.
Of all the grab bags in the car, this was a special one. For this bag contained a slew of really great toys. So far I have pieced together that it included my video camera, my video camera accessories, my PowerBook, some assorted blank tapes, two black Eddie Bauer cotton turtlenecks, some other assorted clothes, my ATM card, my checkbook, toiletries, and 45 compact disks neatly organized in an overstuffed CD holder.
It also contained one professionally edited master video tape that had not as of yet been duplicated and one professionally shot videotape of the Friday evening show.
I am at a loss to explain how badly this will set me back. The laptop had some really great new script ideas as well as other very personal details. The video camera has helped me produce some really great segments for my show. The CD's were well, nice to listen to and hopefully the thief really likes Young Country because my collection is mostly Art of Noise, Laurie Anderson, Devo, Depeche Mode, and some other very yummy 80's music tracks, so I am hoping they hate all of it. The thief will never know or care how badly I am reeling from this incident.
I would like to know what kind of person would do this. I want to meet this person and witness their life as a silent visitor. Not to bring them to justice because that will happen one day. Maybe not through the courts, but by their own tainted Karma. Instead I want to see what their life is all about. Are they living on the streets? Are they living in the depths of despair from some bad decisions made in their life? What causes a person to bash out my window to remove my hard earned tools of my art?
I cancelled my checking account right away, but I cannot help but think that some poor slob might get stuck with one of my checks. I do not want to walk into a restaurant and see my check under glass as a deadbeat. I do not want some angry person calling me to find out why I wrote a check on a closed account. They might be shop merchant who owns a small family owned gift store were to take my check? I know I would not have to make good on the check, but that doesn't make me any happier. The knowledge that innocent people could be hurt through no fault of my own is a very unsettling thought.
Tonight, once I finished with my show at the Theatre Off Jackson, I went down to the Comedy Underground to see my friends Linda and David audition for the upcoming comedy competition. This time I parked in sight of Elvis and tipped him a grand total of 35 cents. He was very grateful and my vehicle was not harmed, even though it had a gaping hole where a window used to reside.
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