Let me share a bit about my alarm apprehension. I don't know why a black cloud of terror comes over me when I face a security alarm. Maybe it has to do with my not liking to be told what to do. Or maybe I've just not had great experience in this area. For a short period of time I worked in a huge house that was converted into a non-profit organization. I'd occasionally have to put on a program after everyone else had left for the day. My job required me to enter the dark building, head to the little beeping box on the wall and to punch in a code. I did set the alarm off once when I panicked and reversed numbers. And another time because, why, I don't remember. I talked to the very nice alarm guys more than those times as well when I called to report an oops.
I always felt this horrible anxiety drop over me the second I put the key in the keyhole and I'd rush to the box to silence it before bad things happened. But it's not like I ever had a Swat Team loosed on me.
So on my unfortunate Sunday morning. Without the benefit of coffee and with a time limit. I balked at the whole idea of the alarm.
Fortunately, the call to a shower and a toilet was stronger than my fear of setting off the alarm. 23 carefully explained that the red button was bad. Very bad. We must not push it. Then she went on to describe the other three buttons. Fortunately, three out of four were our friends. She gave us a pep talk, went over the magical colors and what they meant and sent us on our way. As she headed out the door, before it banged shut she turned. Fortunately. "Hey, here's the security code word in case something goes wrong."
Unfortunately, all sorts of visions danced through my head. Cold gun muzzles against my throat, tear gas gagging me and clouding my vision, me, weeping in a pile on the floor followed by fingerprinting, strip searches. Least of all was the realization that, unfortunately, I was riding in the car in pajamas that were tucked into my sweat pants, my hair was in an unruly smash-sided mess and my legs were unshaved. I didn't even stop to consider the shape of the elastic on my underwear.
Fortunately, we made it to the house without any mishaps that would require the exchange of information with unprepared motorists. Fortunately I remembered the instruction about the red button. We neared the door. I pressed white and then we unlocked the door. Beeping sounded from inside the quiet tomblike home. Unfortunately, that did not sound right. Shouldn't it have stopped. "Rob. It's beeping."
Unfortunately, he looked nervous. "She said it beeped when you shut it off. It's probably okay." I hit the white button again and braced. Surely it would stop. Right? Well. Technically. (But NOT fortunately.) It did. The friendly little "I'm here. Don't forget about me." beep disappeared. But it was replaced with it's big brother. The bellow. The "WHO ARE YOU?" screamed through the house.
UNFORTUNATELY.
Frantic and nervous displays of panic and energy followed as I went to the wall box and pushed the off button. Unfortunately that didn't stop it. Then. The. Phone. Rang. Unfortunately. The alarm company wondered if everything was okay. Fortunately, we could say, yes, yes it was. Unfortunately they didn't release us on our own merits. We needed proof. Fortunately, we had it. The last magic word 23 blurted when she second-guessed our ability to handle the security system.
So. No more danger of the Swat Team. And we finally figured out how to turn off the alarm. Fortunately. Showers. Check. Coffee. Check. Fortunately.
