Sleepless In Seattle

Three years ago, when I found my Seattle apartment, I was so excited because I had a great view of the Space Needle and downtown, and even a bit of the sound from my balcony. It's on the third floor, which is actually four stories up since my building starts with 'G', rather than 1. As a single woman living alone, I was specifically seeking something off the ground floor. Something that felt safe and secure.

My building is a security building, the locks on my doors are substantial, my windows double pane, and my neighbors generally watchful. I've always felt safe. Naturally, I'd leave my windows and balcony slider door open during the nice weather. Who would shimmy up four stories to climb into my apartment? You can see the balconies from the street. For three years I barely gave it a second thought. I'd leave for days with my slider unlocked.

However, that over confident feeling of safety finally caught up with me when last Friday morning at 7.30 I was greeted by a real live "Cat Burglar" in my apartment. I had gotten up, gone to the bathroom (with the door wide open as single people who live alone do) and walked out to my living room to find, squatting next to my television, a man dressed in black. I could only make out his silhouette, not his facial features. It wasn't quite bright enough yet.

Flabbergasted and baffled at first I began asking questions, "What the hell?" "What's going on here?" "What are you doing?" Mr. Cat Burglar was silent and unmoving. I then very firmly and steadily said "GET OUT" enunciating the T's. And then more urgently "Getout! Getout!" Attempting to comply with my request, he slowly stood and turned toward the balcony carrying something in his arms. That's when I lost all sense of reason and began shouting "hey, wait, what do you have? What are you taking?" and chased him out onto my balcony hitting him, screaming, pushing him against the railing and trying to grab the item (which turned out to be my laptop). I continued this madness trying to convince him to drop it, asking him what else he had and swearing at him with a mouth like a sailor. I was basically having this complete conversation by myself as Mr. CB was not speaking to me.

He began to climb over my balcony rail onto my neighbor's, but realized this would pose a problem. He could not retreat the way he came with his arms full of my possessions. He backed out and blocked me rushing back into my apartment. I continued to charge him. For one split second we both stopped short. I was suddenly aware of my vulnerability standing there in my flimsy bathrobe and wondered if he'd pull a gun. He, apparently, realized his predicament of being somewhat trapped in this wild woman's apartment. His goals were to keep his face hidden, his hands on the loot and get out unscathed. He ran for the door and I charged after him continuing my kicking, hitting and screaming routine yelling for him to get out, but not exactly making it easy for him to do so. I still wanted my laptop and whatever else he had taken.

Mr. CB was trapped against my door trying to fumble with the multiple lock system. It was at this point I was considering grabbing his curly dark hair and ramming his head against the door. But something inside me finally snapped. I suddenly became aware of this fella's size, strength and ability. He did, after all, climb up the side of my building. I can't even do a chin up.

Once he managed to get out of my apartment I chased him down the hall and yelled for help. My neighbor from downstairs ran up and asked if I was okay. Said she was going to call the police, but thought I was having a fight with my boyfriend. Of course she'd think that, at no point was I yelling "Help!" or "Police!" I considered this early morning, it's not like I had my wits about me.

Upon telling my little tale to others, everyone has some suggestion about what they would have done if this had happened to them. Is this suppose to make me feel better? "I would have gotten a knife!" one said. Yeah, I've got time to go to my kitchen and fish around my drawers for the one sharpish knife I own.

"I would have kneed him in the balls," was another. Mr. CB made sure his back was to me at all times. Besides, I've heard that doesn't really work because he'd be facing me and have all the control.

"You should have kicked him with your heel on the top of his foot," insisted another. Ummm....please be reminded that I was barefoot and he was wearing heavy duty climbing shoes. Even as I considered how I could hurt him, I realized my current half naked state didn't provide me with a lot of ammunition. Which is why I had to just get him out of there before he decided to hurt me instead. He'd gotten away with my laptop and wallet. Could have been much worse.

Afterwards, a policeman came, then his lieutenant came, then the burglary squad came. Fingerprints were lifted (probably mine), photos taken and statements made. On Monday a follow up policewoman came out to talk about safety tips and commended me for my efforts. Later her sergeant called and sent an email regarding the mess the fingerprint dust made on my carpet. By this point, I was expecting the Mayor himself to pay me a visit.

There has been a rash of similar burglaries in my neighborhood lately. Hopefully they'll catch the guy. Although I never saw his whole face, I definitely would recognize that hairdo of luscious curls and am keeping my eyes peeled.

In the meantime, I'm keeping my slider locked like a good girl, and I still feel pretty safe overall. Just needed to be reminded that this is, in fact, a city and I need to treat it as such.