I Called 911
Living alone in a house, one of my greatest fears is that one day "it" will happen. It will be that day, that moment, when I really have to call 911. Someone is breaking in, something is on fire, some emergency is happening, and I will need to dial that number that we never, ever dial unless it is the end of the world - 911.

Tonight I was sitting here at the computer, minding my own business. Suddenly, I heard a sound outside. It was a thud, of sorts. It sounded like something had hit the side of my house.

Then it happened again.

And again.

And now it sounded like someone, or something was beating the side of my house, or perhaps throwing something at it.

Then, it sounded like it was on the roof.

I flipped on my front porch light, hoping the light would scare off whoever was attacking my house, before it got IN to the house. But, no. The noisy beating continued, getting louder, and more frequent.

I couldn't decide if maybe it was kids messing around in my driveway, throwing a ball against the house. In which case, I would just be really mad at some neighborhood kids. Or if it really was some mass murderer outside, chopping away at the brick, trying to drive me insane before coming inside to get me. In which case, I would be extrememly frightened, and less mad. And possibly in grave danger.

So, I decided this was the moment. The very moment I have feared for the past two years of living here. I grabbed my phone, heart racing, and I dialed 911.

Thankfully, it rang a few times. And in those seconds of the 911 operators not picking up the phone to save me, I had a thought:

That sound could also sound a lot like fireworks. It would be unexpected and out of place at this particular date in time, but if you take away the fear of thinking someone is breaking in and just listen to the noise, it could be fireworks. Which would mean no one is trying to beat a hole in my house in order to come in and get me.

Maybe I should not call 911.

My options were to continue to stay on the phone with 911, tell the 911 people that I think someone is beating my house and trying to come in and get me, make them come to my house and check it out, only then to find someone scary in my yard and save my life, OR to possibly discover that the sound that was freaking me out was fireworks, and I'm in absolutely no danger whatsoever.

OR, I could hang up the phone and go outside and check for myself. If there was no crazy man outside, and it was only fireworks, all is well. If there are no fireworks, and there is a crazy man outside, then I might be in some trouble. But at least I wouldn't have cops laughing at me as they tell me, "Ma'am, those fireworks are not trying to break in to your house. Please don't call us again unless you are actually having a real emergency." I would be That Crazy Fireworks Lady forevermore.

I hung up the phone, opting for the less embarrassing of the two options. But, I did not immediately go outside.

See, it is not a holiday that I am aware of. My house is in a quiet suburban neighborhood. Why, on August 21, would there be a massive fireworks show that was so loud it sounded like someone was beating my house? Fireworks did not make sense. It seemed like a ploy to get me out of the house where I could then be gotten. By someone bad.

So, instead of opening the door and going right out to see what all the hub-bub was about, like they do in every scary movie right before someone gets axed, I turned off the porch light and looked outside.

I saw fireworks.

Good thing I hung up on 911 before they answered.

I opened the door and went outside to see (and hear) a very loud fireworks show coming from I-don't-know-where for I-don't-know-what-reason, but someplace apparently close enough to rattle my house, for a very festive occasion.

They should give a warning before they do their Fireworks For No Apparent Reason. Especially when there is no logical explanation for why there would be a big fireworks show tonight, and it frightens us old people in the neighborhood.

Unless they are just celebrating that it's Sunday. As we all do. But usually with less pyrotechnics.

C.T.