What happens in DC stays in DC - Part 2

Incident 2 - The Victim

It was around 10 at night. After a sumptuous meal at an Indian restaurant in downtown DC, we headed back towards our car. The crowd had thinned out. Most of the shops were closed. The citizens of DC had gone back to their homes to get a good night's sleep before the drudgery of the coming week.

"Remember where we kept our car?" I asked as I scraped my feet on the pavement. My stomach was full and my legs felt like lead.

"Yeah", came a lazy reply.

I followed the other three as we turned left from the main street and into a side alley.

Yes, this is the place. There is that same school building that we saw before, its walls smeared with spray paint. There is that streetlamp whose flickering light casts an eerie shadow on the road. The stench of alcohol is heavy in the air…

Yes, this was definitely the place. But there was something different about it. Something had changed. I zipped up my jacket and put on my hood. The mercury had dipped a little. A cold breeze began to blow and a couple of empty beer bottles rattled against the sidewalk.

We walked past the school building and turned left towards a steeply inclining slope.

"And there is our ca-" B stopped midway through his sentence and looked back with an expression of horror on his face. "Guys, something is wrong", he said.

=======

Two hours before the incident, we were trying to navigate our sleek black Mazda through the busy streets of Washington DC. Our two day trip had almost come to an end. And it was time to give it a befitting closure - a hearty, sumptuous dinner at a good, yet not very expensive Indian restaurant.

Looking back, I would say that Washington DC is a lot like South-Central New Delhi, (and thus perhaps like any another capital city in the world*) with government buildings, national monuments honoring the leaders of the country, beautiful gardens with plush greenery, wide and expansive roads, and then a downtown area with pubs, nightclubs and boutique shops. But the best part about DC is that most of its tourist spots are within walking distances from each other. The Smithsonian Museum Complex is about a 15 minute walk from the Capitol Building. The Washington Monument is about a 15 minute walk from the Smithsonian Complex. The Lincoln Memorial is about a 15 minute walk from the Washington Monument and the White House is about a 15 minute walk from the Lincoln Memorial. Furthermore, the tourist areas of DC can be covered in two days, perfect for an enriching weekend getaway.

And thus, after admiring the architectural marvels, getting fascinated by the museum exhibits, enjoying the St. Patrick's Day parade and getting amused by the protestors outside the White House, we found ourselves frantically looking for free parking spots near the Indian restaurant. And the failure to find one, led us to turn into a desolate side alley.

"Finally!" I shouted out loud.
"There's no 'No Parking' board here. So I guess we are fine." A said as he parked the car alongside the curb.
"And besides, its the weekend. We won't get ticketed.**" B replied.
"Remember the location. Last thing we want is to forget where we parked our car." I spoke out as I walked out of the car and slammed the door shut. I felt refreshed as the cool evening breeze caressed my face.

I guess the location is easy to remember. Steep incline on the left. And that seems to be the back side of a school building. And there is some cool graffiti sprayed on its walls. And then there's a flickering streetlamp, casting its soft incandescent glow on the road. Shouldn't be a problem.

C seemed unusually quiet as we walked from the side alley, into the main road and towards the Indian restaurant.

"What happened?" I asked C.
"Nothing." C stopped for a moment, looked back over his shoulder and then continued walking.

=========

Two hours later, we found ourselves walking back to that desolate side alley. We had found our car. It was exactly where we had left it. But unfortunately, it was not exactly in the same condition as we had left it.

The car's driver's side window had been smashed. Jagged clumps of glass were what remained of the window. There were shards of broken glass lying on the road and on the driver's seat, brilliantly glittering under the light of the streetlamps.

"Careful." I called out as A peered inside the car through the broken window.

"Guys, the GPS is stolen." He remarked.
"Was there anything else in car?" B asked.
"I guess not. Our bags are in the hotel." C replied.
"What about the papers?" I asked.
"The glove compartment is locked." A replied.

"What do we do? What do we do now?" I almost screamed out.
"I have no idea." A replied back. The shock was setting in slowly.
"Just when we thought that we had a trip without a major incident! ***" B snorted.
"Well, at least we are safe." A replied.

Yes. At least we were safe. Things could have been a lot worse. What would have happened if those thugs had come around when we were there? What if they had robbed us, or worse, attacked us? What if our bags were in that car? What if our laptops had been stolen? What if our passports had been stolen?

"Ok. So what do we do?" C asked gingerly as he walked around the vehicle inspecting it from all angles.
"Do we call 911?" I asked.
"Yes, I'll call." B took out his phone and dialed the emergency number.
The three of us looked at him in anticipation.

"Hello, my name is B and I'm standing near the intersection of Columbia Street and 31st Street (names changed). My car's driver side window has been smashed....Yes, it was parked here…Yes, it looks like our GPS has been stolen....No, nothing else....Yes, we have the papers...Yes, I want to file a complaint...Do I leave my car here and wait for you guys to come...Oh, you guys won't come here?...So can I take my car and get it fixed...Yes, alright....Yes, I'll wait for your call...Thank you."

He hung up the phone.

"So?" I asked.
"They said they won't be sending anyone. And they asked me if I wanted to report it and I said yes. Hopefully, that should take care of the insurance." B replied.

I was disappointed. I thought that we'd have to wait until the cops would arrive and cordon off the area with that yellow colored tape that says - "Police Investigation. Do not Cross." I thought that the cops would wave their cool badges in front of us and interview us. I thought that the forensic team would photograph the crime scene. Sadly, none of that happened. I realized that this was nothing but a petty crime. Such things might be happening every day. For the person on the other end of the 911 call, it would have been yet another mundane report of theft. But for us, the entire ordeal was scary.

Once we were done taking the photographs of our car for the insurance claim, we moved on to yet another critical discussion :

"What do we do now? How do we fix the windows?" I asked.
"We need to find a garage, pay for the replacement and then claim our insurance. The car was fully insured, right?" B added.
"Yes." A replied.
"How do we find the garage?"
"Even if we do find the garage, we can't be sure if they have a window replacement for a Mazda."
"And even if they do have it, how long will they take? Because, I need to be in West Lafayette by Monday night. I have a flight to catch on Tuesday morning."
"Which means, we have to leave DC by max 2pm."
"I doubt if the window can be fixed by then."
"So what do we do?"
"What can we do? We'll drive it like this. Clean up the car a little bit. Remove the glass from the seats and carry on."
"You plan to drive a car without a window on the interstate at 80 miles per hour?"
"We have no other choice."
"That is not a choice either."
"We'll have to wear our jackets and shiver in the cold, that’s all."
"It's not about the jackets. The wind speeds will be insanely high on the interstate. The car will be unstable. You cannot drive. Remember how it used to feel and how the car used to sway when we lowered the window for a brief moment?"
"Hmmm…Well, that leaves us with no option at all."

"There is one option." I said.

"Which is?" A asked.

"Where are you flying to on Tuesday?" I asked.

"Boston."

"Ok. Then listen to this. We'll try and get this window fixed by Tuesday. You can cancel your air ticket and we can drive from here to Boston!"

"Guys, there is a realistic option." C who seemed to be quiet all this time, finally joined in the conversation.
"What?"
"Why don't we call up Hertz? I'm sure they'll have a garage in DC. Let's see what they have to say."

And thanks to C’s insightful suggestions, we managed to put an end to our misery (and to my crazy idea). Hertz, the car rental company, had a garage at the Ronald Reagan International Airport. Upon hearing our story, they had agreed to give us a replacement car for no extra charge. So either Hertz was notified by the police, or Hertz had a way of corroborating our story with the police report, or most likely, it really did not matter to them. I guess that the issue of dealing with a car with a broken window would be of no value compared to the issue of maintaining the satisfaction of the customer.

So we drove the battered Mazda to the Hertz garage, signed a few papers and came out with a sparkling red Chevy.

* It’s a bold claim, considering that I have only visited two national capitals till now.
** Curbside parking is generally free on weekends in most US cities.
*** B had pompously claimed that there had always been at least a single incident on any trip that he'd been on. Upon pressing him on what kind of incidents he was referring to, he casually replied, "Something like breaking your bones."