Swiss Cheese

This morning, I offered to drive Stacia to work. Sleepily, I grabbed my (half-caff) coffee in one hand and the dog in the other, and followed Stacia out the door onto the porch.

Where we stopped dead in our tracks.

There was a red banner carefully strung to our front stoop. From the back, we couldn't see what it was. I hopped around to the front and saw this doctored Swiss flag:




You can see that there is some beautiful artwork. There is a very lovely cow lactating into a bucket, a Swiss watch above her head, a chocolate bar drawn on the left, a very accurate depiction of the Swiss Alps and a mountain climber on the right with the words, "We kick your ass by doing NOTHING." And words along the bottom part of the white cross that say, "So how's that continental drift? India is raming (misspelled) into Asia! So fuck off."

And, in the center, in bold letters, "NEUTRAL AS SHIT"

Completely confused, Stacia and I looked at each other. "What the hell?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said. "We're not even Swiss."

We took down the flag, put it in the porch, and got in the car to drive to Stacia's work. The whole way there, we contemplated what this symbol of Switzerland on our front stoop could possibly mean.

"Are we neutral about something?" Stacia asked.

"I don't know," I said.

"It looks like someone who is pretty clue-y about world politics wrote this," she said. "But what the hell? Why was it on our doorstep?"

"It looks like something someone might have made for a protest," I said. "Like something about political neutrality. So...what the fuck? Why us?"

You have to understand--we are new in the neighborhood. We live on Aurora Avenue, which isn't unsafe but is a street on which, since I have moved here six months ago, there have been a few par-for-the-course drug busts, squatters, homicide, arson, etc. Not unlike any other street in urban St. Paul, but still. I have had a few weird interactions with neighbors who creep me out. One time some guy followed me in a car for a whole block, just to tell me that I better pick up any shit my dog leaves behind. I once watched two women attack each other by physically knocking each other down and throwing punches at each other in front of our house. And once, while sitting on the couch watching a made-for-TV movie starring Marlee Matlin, I heard about seven gunshots fired nearby. We found out in the newspaper the next day that someone had been shot and killed on our block.

No, I don't feel unsafe here. I may not go for walks at night by myself--but I wouldn't do that in Merriam Park, either. All of the stuff that has happened has been spread out over many months, and we know our neighbors and like the location. We have never had any indication that anyone had anything against us.

Until, ironically, the Swiss flag appeared on our front stoop.

As we neared Stacia's work, we decided that we ought to call the police. "I'm not worried about it," Stacia said, "But I think we should file a report, just to have it on record that this weird thing happened."

"Okay," I said, in agreement.

"And ask them about a No Tresspassing sign," she said. "Ask I can put one up or if I have to get clearance from the Police Department."

"Okay," I said. She was right--it was creepy to think of someone opening the gate and sneaking onto our front stoop to oh-so-carefully tie a flag to the rails. Why our house? Why not the neighbor's house?

So when I got home after dropping Stacia off, I called the cops. They sent an officer immediately. He reeked of cologne and a macho sense of duty. "Do any of your neighbors have anything against you?" he asked.

"No," I said. "I don't think it's a big deal, we just wanted to file a report."

"Ma'am," he said, "In this neighborhood, we can't take this sort of thing lightly. I'm going to take this banner as evidence and submit it to our Special Investigations Unit."

"Uh, okay," I said.

So he took the Swiss flag, with an air of great gravity and stinky cologne, and returned to his Po-Po-Mobile.

I continued with my day, working on some scheduling for the summer, and then got ready to go to the Children's Center to teach music. On the drive to the pre-school I called my friend Caity to tell her the crazy story.

Teasingly, I left her this voice mail message: "You didn't happen to tie a Swiss flag to our front stoop last night, did you? Because if you did, you'll have to get it back from the cops. And if you didn't, call me because I have a great story."

A few minutes later, I got this text from her:

Dude, you called the cops!

To which I responded, stunned:

It was YOU?

And she said:

Of course it was me and megan. That's what we like to call a love crime.

I couldn't believe it. I should have known! She had recently told me about another prank she had pulled on a marquee sign, where she had rearranged the letters to spell something inappropriate. But I never imagined that she would have put a fricking Swiss flag in front of our house. What does that even mean? I was simultaneously shocked, flattered, and relieved.

I called Stacia to tell her, and she busted out laughing. "That's gonna be hard to top," she said.

So then I had to call the police, apologetically, with the news that the whole thing had been a prank. That was one of the more awkward phone calls I've had to make. I never have liked dealing with the cops. Especially since being arrested. But this was....one of the more not-so-fun phone calls I had to make. The cop I talked to sounded really irritated and told me there was nothing he could do anyway, since they had already filed a report and that an investigator would call me soon.

So now Caity and Megan's beautiful artwork is in the hands of the Western Precinct Special Investigations Unit. Congratulations, ladies, you have done well!

And, now...to think of an adequate prank in return....any suggestions?