Death at the In’n’Out

I seem to have a penchant for getting into trouble, or so it seemed as two looming detectives stood over my half-naked and half-awake form at 4am. They filled my small dorm room, and the overhead light was a stark contrast to the Christmas lights which normally lit the room – an all too bright allusion to my paranoid fantasies of being interrogated.

It’s well known by the all-night beef-eating crowd in Pasadena that the local In’n’Out closes at 1:30am, and so it was 17 minutes before that time which found me asking a handful of insomniacs if they were interested in hitting the In’n’Out. Only the Punster had similar cravings, and we were quickly off in The Duck en route to the best burger barn I know.

The double drives were packed with like-minded individuals seeking gratification for their need to feed, so we queued up and chatted away about stuff. We inched forward ever so slowly, oblivious to everything except our impending beef bonanza, and it was just before we got to place our order that the sound of firecrackers exploded in the green convertible next to my car. The Punster recognized the noise instantly as gunfire, and was understandably shook up as I tried to argue that it was only some kids with firecrackers playing a prank. Stunned moments later, a car peeled out of the back of the line at the drive-thru, and Punster won the argument as he observed that the driver of the convertible appeared to be dead.

Being trapped in a long line of cars at a drive-thru while maniacs with guns are driving around is a less than pleasant experience (however normal it might actually be in LA, being made directly aware of it is highly uncomfortable). Minutes passed where the world seemed at a stand still before there was movement ahead: a burger being delivered to its rightful owner. I secretly prayed that I might still get my burger, as I was butt-hungry, but we were all waved away and told to get out of there.

Back at campus, the Punster was still visibly shaken and after some discussion we thought that it might be a good idea to call the police and identify ourselves as useless witnesses. We called, and they didn’t seem to believe us, but they took our names and numbers anyway, at which point Punster left to go work on his physics stuff.

When the detectives finally showed up at my door, they were pretty spooky. One was friendly enough and spoke to me, and the other stood towering in the corner. It seemed like a bad TV show, with the good cop and the bad cop, and all sorts of questions which had vague implications that I might have been involved in the shooting. The questioning was very surreal, to say the least, and when they were finally satisfied that I was useless (as well as hopeless), they asked about the Punster. I told them where Punster’s lab was, and asked them to be sensitive about their questioning since he was pretty shook up. And then I went back to sleep.

Nothing ever came of it all, and I heard that it was probably a drug related shooting. Disappointing, I guess. Punster came up to me the next day and asked about my interrogation. Apparently the detectives had introduced themselves, and then quickly jumped in with the quip “So… Bo tells us that you shot someone tonight.”

Wacky.

Reprinted from the original UGCS site.