My apartment has been burglarized twice, but the second break-in — involving police with drawn guns, the Puerto Rican Day Parade and an apartment door smashed in two pieces — was far more dramatic.
Away for the weekend, I returned home Sunday afternoon to a street pulsating with loud Latin music and revelers celebrating the Puerto Rican Day Parade booming up the block. I was half way up the stairs to my apartment on the top floor, when I looked up at my apartment door and froze. Broken in two, my front door was missing its’ bottom half. Holy moly! Were thieves still in there? Surely if the break-in had occurred earlier in the weekend, my next door neighbor would have reported it and the door would have been boarded up by now.
No, I decided, it wouldn’t be smart to enter alone. Down I went back to the crowded street. It took me only a minute to snag a policeman. But instead of being eager to perhaps stop a burglary in progress, the officer appeared reluctant to leave his cushy parade duty. Operating in slow motion, as though praying the thieves would disappear before he got there, he radioed his superior, got the okay to proceed and rounded up a partner.
A few minutes later the three of us were creeping up the final flight of stairs to my apartment with me in the middle. Concentrating hard on the broken door, both cops ascended the stairs tensely with guns drawn. At that moment it occurred to me being wedged between two loaded guns with fingers on two triggers was not the best place to be, so I dropped back to the rear of our trio. The FAR rear.
On the top floor, the police yelled out, announcing their presence. Silence. When a few minutes had passed with no sound or action they ducked under the door and disappeared. I soon followed them in. Chaos. Ransacked belongings thrown everywhere. Spilled pill bottles, overflowing drawers pulled out. The usual things missing – TV, audio equipment (no computer in those early days). And the NOT so usual things missing. My treasured collection of silk scarves, mostly Italian — all gone. The thieves had good taste — had to give them that.
And how had the burglars so brutally destroyed my apartment door? A snap. I had actually helped them. Beside my apartment in a tiny alcove leading to the roof I had stored a canister vacuum cleaner with a long metal hose. After flattening the hose opening, the thieves had apparently used it as crowbar to crack my door in two. Both door locks had solidly held so the top half of the door was still locked perfectly in place.
At that time no apartment doors in the building had jimmy proof bars. Now they all do. Plus an intercom was installed. Not to mention we now also have locks on both our downstairs’ front doors: the inner and outer one. In the many years that have passed since that Dutch door episode, only two burglars have made it past those two locks. Both times it happened in the middle of the night and both were heart-stopping stories I’ll save for another time. (Here are some tips for keeping your home safe.)
Has your home or apartment ever been burglarized? If so, was entry made through your front door, which seems to be the most popular point of entry for thieves?
Other challenging moments in the city:
- A Pickpocket Picks the Wrong Pocket
- Tales of Big Apple Shoplifters
- Safety Tips for New York City Newcomers
- Moving to NYC: Plum job, Petite Salary and a Flasher
- My Mack Undergoes a Stress Test
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