Whiskey Tango Boulevard, You’re The Bomb!
Today’s Brew: Chocolate Coconut Tea. It’s better once it steeps completely
As some of you might know from Twitter, my neighborhood is kind of like one of fun houses that looks harmless from the outside, so you decide to go in, and it’s so broken down and utterly fucked you’re scarred for days after the ride. We’ve had the SWAT team here, there was a sexual assault claim on my floor while I was in Toronto last summer, and my neighbors are terrific white trash on a daily basis. The girl downstairs smoked a butt while eating her cereal on the porch last summer. I’m pretty sure she’s available, boys.
This weekend took the cake. I was on my way home, and saw cruisers barrel-assing though town. I said to my friend Sara, “They’re going to my house.” She laughed, but somehow, she had a feeling I was right this time
She was. They were.
I couldn’t park in my spot because a cruiser blocked access. One officer talked to some people in the side lot. The building was waaaaaay too quiet for all those cruisers. McGee wasn’t giving us any info.
Then the messages started coming in. “Ready to move yet?”
According to the news, this happened:
The State Police bomb squad is investigating a suspicious device that was found attached to the gas tank of a car.
Officials responded to an apartment complex on Whiskey Tango Blvd in Plymouth where a woman said she found the device attached to the gas tank of her pickup truck.
The State Fire Marshall’s office said the device was “an improvised device with a firework that could explode.”
“It was two wires hanging out of the gas tank with a fire cracker attached to it.” said Kristen’s downstairs neighbor, who lives near the scene.
The bomb squad was able to remove the device without detonating it.
Witnesses said they saw blue wires hanging from the tank and smelled gasoline. Kristen’s neighbor said she also smelled gasoline.
“I only smelled it because I came near it to see what the heck was hanging out of the truck,” Neighbor said.
Plymouth police are currently investigating. So far, there is no suspect and no motive.
And I thought I needed to move solely for the lack of laundry facilities. OK, I do have them, but the crazy lady on the first floor stole Julie’s underwear out of the machine.
So yeah, I’m looking for a new place to live. I wish I didn’t have to rent, but I’m self employed so after my deductions come out of my gross income, I don’t look awesome on paper.
Maybe someday I’ll get a big book deal or movie rights, or something that will get me the hell out of Whiskey Tango.
But today, I’m off to the laundromat.