The Time a Crazed Lunatic Tried to Break into My House

Prior to last week, the scariest thing that had ever happened to me was the time some random nutjob held a knife to my throat on the train in New York, and that really wasn’t that scary. It was alarming and certainly shook me up at the time, but I never even had time to feel truly threatened — it was a crowded train and the the whole incident lasted about six seconds before some fellow passengers hopped up to my defense. It was almost comically un-dramatic: the dude just walked away and I got off at the next stop as if nothing had happened. Ah, New York.

What happened last Wednesday blew that experience out of the water.

Now, as you may or may not know, I live in a part of Los Angeles that you might consider sketchy-adjacent. My immediate neighborhood is full of nice families and well-kept homes, but I wouldn’t advise taking a stroll over to the 7/11 down the road after dark, and you might want to roll up your windows and lock your car doors as you head towards the freeway on-ramp a mile away. We also hear a disturbingly high number of police sirens screaming by our nearest major cross-street every day, which I suppose does raise a few red flags about the overall safety of this area. That said, I’ve lived here for nearly three years and I’ve never felt un-safe in my home or while out walking the dog, taking Bubba to daycare around the corner, or jogging by myself (even past the aforementioned 7/11…in the daylight hours, anyway).

So when someone knocked on the door last Wednesday evening, my dear husband didn’t even bother to take a gander out the window to see whether it was a salesperson or a neighbor or a crazed lunatic — he just went ahead and opened the door like any normal person would do.

Big mistake!

It was indeed a Certified Crazed Lunatic, and he proceeded to attempt to BARGE INTO THE HOUSE.

Fortunately, my strapping husband was able to slam the door in his face before he could make his way into our home, and the Crazed Lunatic turned tail and headed back down our driveway.

Unfortunately, I was in the other room at the time and wasn’t privy to what had just transpired — all I’d heard was a knock at the door, followed by my husband opening and shutting the door without communicating with whomever had knocked. Equally unfortunate is that my wonderful, handsome, brilliant spouse can be kind of an idiot when it comes to communication, so when I asked him who was at the door, he failed to convey the fact that A CRAZED LUNATIC HAD JUST TRIED TO ENTER OUR HOME; instead, he just said something vague about the person being a weirdo. Not understanding that A CRAZED LUNATIC HAD JUST TRIED TO ENTER OUR HOME, I assumed he meant that the man was confused, or that my brilliant/idiotic husband just hadn’t understood what the guy wanted…so I opened the door a crack and inquired, “hey, did you need something?”

Big mistake #2!

Crazed Lunatic took my query as an invitation to come back up to our door and again attempt to enter our humble abode, and it was at this point that TFW finally decided to inform me that THE CRAZED LUNATIC HAD ACTUALLY TRIED TO ENTER OUR HOME a few moments prior. Luckily, I had the door closed and locked by the time he made his way back to the door, but the Crazed Lunatic wasn’t going to let that stop him! He began a valiant effort to enter our home by banging on the door, rattling the knob so hard I thought for sure it would fly off, and shouting incoherently.

Obviously, it was time to call the police. I dialed 911 and frantically explained that someone was trying to break into my house and had in fact almost made his way in, and that I was very very frightened and had a baby in the house and to PLEASE HURRY because who knows what this maniac is capable of?

The dispatcher was not impressed. Despite the fact that she could HEAR the man hollering and certainly should have picked up on the obvious fear in my voice, she was in no hurry to send any officers out. She asked me about fives times whether I knew the man, and at one point asked (in the most condescending sneer she could muster) if it was my landlord and I just didn’t want to let him in.

Yes, really.

I was eventually able to convince her that this was indeed a CRAZED LUNATIC to whom I had no relation and that he was indeed still attempting to ENTER MY HOME, and she assured me that police were on the way. I stayed on the line with her to keep her apprised of the situation, and after about ten minutes I reported that the shouting and banging and rattling had suddenly stopped. I assumed the Crazed Lunatic had decided to depart, but I certainly wasn’t about to peer out the window and confirm, so I stayed put in the back room where my darling husband (now helpfully wielding a kitchen knife!) and I were hiding and continued to ask my sassy dispatcher when the hell the cops would be arriving.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the dispatcher told me that the police had arrived and that I should go let them in. HOORAY! SAVED AT LAST! I raced to the front door and threw it open.

Big mistake #3!

The police were not there, but the Crazed Lunatic sure was. He had passed out (he looked dead, actually) and was slumped against the door, meaning he pretty much FELL INTO MY HOUSE when I opened the door. It was, without a doubt, the most terrifying thing I have ever seen in my entire life. I’ve included an artist’s rendering of this horrific moment below so you can really visualize the moment:

Don’t ask why my legs are so misshapen. And yes, the Crazed Lunatic did have fingers in real life. Also, rest assured that this drawing is not to scale (I’m pretty sure I’m more than just a few inches taller than my doorknob, and the CL was definitely taller than 4′ himself). Everything else depicted here is 100% accurate, at least according to how I remember the scene unfolding (he totally had X’s instead of eyeballs).

I screamed and slammed that door shut as if my life depended on it, although the fact that he was clearly incapacitated as opposed to, say, standing there with a gun waiting to murder me, was admittedly a relief. “The police are NOT here,” I corrected the dispatcher. “But the intruder still is, and he’s passed out on my doorstep.”

Thankfully, the Crazed Lunatic remained passed out until the police actually did arrive (another five minutes later!), at which point he resumed his hollering until the police led him away. Once he was gone, I spoke briefly with the police, who helpfully laughed at the situation (“ah, drunk lunatics trying to break into people’s homes! HILARIOUS!”) and told me that the guy lived around the corner and that they’d dealt with him before. They collected my info and were gone within 90 seconds of arriving, long before I had a chance to put my thoughts together and ask them a few key questions, like, say, if this individual is known to be violent and whether I need to now live in fear that he’s going to come back.

If you’ve made it this far (and I do apologize for the lengthy account; at least you got to see an awesome drawing in the middle!), allow me to reward you by sharing what I learned from this exhilarating adventure:

1. If you think landlines are useless, you’re wrong. Had I called 911 from a landline instead of from my cell phone, I could have cut out the first 2 minutes of my interaction with the dispatcher when she made me repeat my address sixty-five times. We got a landline installed the next day.
2. If your 911 dispatcher tells you to open the door because the police are there, don’t be an idiot like me. Look out the damn window and confirm, especially if said dispatcher had previously tried to convince you that the intruder might really just be your landlord, even though your landlord is a different gender and race entirely.
3. Have a little talk with your husband and reiterate the importance of taking a quick peek out the window before opening the door. You know, just in case.
4. If you know that your husband is prone to leaving out pertinent details when relaying a story…don’t open the door a second time. Just…don’t.

I hope you’ve all learned something from this cautionary tale. May your days be free of Crazed Lunatics and your nights devoid of police sirens!