"9-1-1, What's Your Emergency?"

What's with me and strange situations involving cops? First Chryslyn and I witness a man being severely beaten and end up being called as witnesses in the court case, then I find a dead body on my front lawn, then there was that incident where I was locked in the store I worked at while Victoria SWAT tried to fish out a man threatening to shoot people in the street (I blogged about that, remember?) and finally, yesterday I spent 20 minutes on the phone with a very lovely 911 operator, cowering behind our spare-room door, trying to make sure I wasn't caught in a good ol' neighbourhood shoot-out.

I was minding my own business, folding laundry in our bedroom and listening to my iPod (an American Public RadioWorks production called "Globalization & the Rise of Religion" - I told you I was a geek) when I heard someone run up the back steps to our balcony. "Strange," I thought, "Craig doesn't get off work until 5...I wonder if Stan finally got someone to come look at the stairs and forgot to tell us." So I wandered over to the kitchen to see through the ever-so-stylish pink blinds that there was a man on our balcony. A very very large man that I didn't know. I was thinking about letting him know I was there, or asking him what he was doing until I looked again--dude had a gun.
I freaked. I ran into the spare-room and grabbed the phone, jamming my fingers clumsily at 9-1-1. Because we have an internet phone we aren't connected immediately and I was put on hold for a while and I have never felt my heart beat like that. I hid behind the still partially open door so the appearance from the sliding door wouldn't change in case he'd looked...finally, the charming lady said, "what's your emergency?" and I sputtered, "there's a man on my balcony and he has a gun." To which I got "WHAT?" as a response. I thought it was because of the absurdity of what was going on, but it turns out it was due to the fact that my internet phone was cutting in and out and she may have heard something like "ther--on my--cony--gun".
She kept asking me questions to figure out where he was on the building and what he looked like (when she asked me what he looked like I believe I said something like this: "I DON'T KNOW! I'M NOT GOING TO GO LOOK! I'M HIDING AND HE DOESN'T KNOW I'M HERE!"). Soon I heard yelling coming from outside our bedroom window and to my surprise I saw a gaggle (posse? herd? flock?) of police officers ready to blow down my neighbour's door - guns drawn. My friend on the phone said, "is that the police I hear? They've arrived?"
To which I replied "But they're at my neighbours."
"Crap. You mean we're at the wrong place?!"
"They need to turn around! GUN-TOTING WEIRDO IS LOOKING AT THEM!"
Police: "COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!! WE HAVE THE PLACE SURROUNDED!"
me: shiiiiiiiiiiit

So, in a long and drawn out story that isn't very interesting to re-enact and is tedious to type I then learned that there was a very serious call at my neighbour's house and that the "gun-toting weirdo" was in fact a plain-clothes officer using my balcony as a perch in their attempts to surround the house. What happened to good ol' uniforms? Or badges?

However, the officer in question was told what happened and after everything was wrapped up he came back up and knocked on the sliding glass door to apologize. I felt silly for calling the police essentially ON the police but he reassured me that it was a good instinct.

The moral of the story is: If you see a man with a gun, call the police...it's just a good idea.