So I wake up last night to the deafening chop of helicopter rotors. I look at the clock. It’s 3:30 am. The helicopter sounds like it’s right overhead. I push aside the blinds just as it appears over the edge of the roof, shining a blinding spotlight directly on my window. The spotlight shifts to another roof. The copter is close because the thick marine layer’s cloud ceiling is very low. This goes on for about ten minutes, the chopper rotating in tight, urgent circles until a demanding, amplified cop voice screams through a bullhorn, “Come down off the ladder or we’ll send someone up to get you!”
Then I decide it’s time to close the window.
Postscript: They could have at least bullhorned “Joel, get off the babysitter!”
