There are three towns right next to each other on the Monterey peninusla–Monterey, Pacific Grove and Carmel-by-the-Sea–so I’ve been reading the Monterey County Weekly and the Carmel Pine Cone to get familiar with the area.
The Pine Cone arrives Friday morning, and each week my favorite thing to do is read the police blotter. Something that will look familiar to anyone who’s lived in a small town, the blotter is an interesting snapshot of how people run their personal business in a community. Often, the Pine Cone has blurbs about someone finding a cell phone or wallet on the beach and taking it to the police station. This, of course, happens in big cities too. It just doesn’t make the paper. Too much murder to talk about.
Here are some entries from last Friday.
Officer dispatched to a business on Ocean View where approximately 20 young adults were. One of them was dared by another to throw disappearing ink on a third person, who did not want to press charges.
Monte Verde Street resident reported receiving a strange letter from a subject. The letter does not make any threats but is suspicious in nature.
Discussed possible solutions with cat owners on Santa Fe Street regarding a cat problem.
Someone entered a Lighthouse Avenue motel room by lifting a window off the track and sliding it open. Once inside, he watched TV and left without being detected. The motel operator learned of the unlawful entry upon renting the room out to a guest. Woman stated she was uncertain but thought there may be two bedspreads missing from the room.
Pacific Grove Lane resident reported that someone dumped patio chairs on his property. The resident confronted the subject and requested he move on and not enter again.
Everyone is so polite. The beat covers police activity in Big Sur, too, which is mostly related to people being stuck on a mountain trail. A couple of weeks ago, there was a full story devoted to an incident at Esalen where a guest got drunk and naked (two things that are not typically considered unusual behavior there):
They said Panto, who had taken off his clothes and was acting strangely, used a hard rubber ball, a Bluetooth speaker box and a glass bottle as weapons…Esalen supporters asked on Facebook how such an unfortunate incident could have happened at such an idyllic place, while some questioned the decision to call the police.
Why’d you call the police, man?
No place is immune from crime, but I’m delighted to be moving to an area where lost dogs are found and people politely request that someone get off their property instead of just shooting them in the face.
Plus, now I know where to dump our patio chairs.
Monthly heavy trash pickup in our neighborhood is this week. We’d been waiting for this opportunity to get rid of a lot of things we hadn’t found a home for, and I was excited to get the stuff out of the house yesterday. Evidently the roaming neighborhood pickers were excited for us to get the stuff out of the house, too, because things barely had the chance to get comfortable on the grass next to the curb before quickly being scooped up.
At one point, there were two cars idling in front, waiting to see what we brought out next. It was quite an eclectic collection with enough variety to outfit an apartment. Table and four chairs. Set of plates. Various cooking implements. Working electronics. And also some crap. Three chipped salad plates. Cobwebby stuff from the back porch. An old futon that was the daytime bed of the big dog (who farted every time she hoisted herself up on it and is quite pissed at its disappearance).
Judging by the excitement of the people who were happily taking the stuff and their desire to talk about it (“You’re just GIVING this away?”), our trash was their treasure. And we avoided it all going to the dump, which was optimal.
The dogs are not happy, though. Not just because of the missing couch. They know that something big is going on around here, and they’re pretty sure they aren’t going to be involved in it. I keep telling them that they get to go on this trip, but I can tell they don’t believe me. Every time Stella looks up at me, she has big sad eyes. She doesn’t understand. Doesn’t know about the fancy doggie car seat I got for her so she can see out the window as we trek across the country. Stella, the dog who’s never been more than 80 miles from home, is about to have her little doggie mind blown.
I have no idea what they’re going to think when their paws touch the Pacific.