Get This! by Amy Lombardo

There have been times when I have wondered what it would be like to be on television. Not as an actor, but actually live in a TV show. It probably stems from watching that movie "Pleasantville," or possibly "The Truman Show." The idea is intriguing; it could even be fun. Unfortunately, when I found myself in the mysterious realm of the boob tube, I was trapped one of the most unwatchable shows on prime time.

No, it wasn't Jerry Springer, he's not prime time. I'll give you a hint: (singing) "Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?" That's right, boys and girls, I was unwillingly thrown into the equivalent of a really, really lame episode of COPS.

I know what you're thinking -- Aren't all the episodes of COPS really, really lame? Well, yes, but this is worse because it involved me.

It happened as I drove home from my internship one day last week, minding my own business. As I drew closer to my house, I noticed the street was blocked off a few hundred feet from my subdivision. There were a couple of police cars there, and quite a few onlookers standing around. No problem, I thought, I'll just drive around and come through another way. Nope. More police, more blockage, more voyeurs. The entrance was barricaded from every angle.

Hmmm... I guess I'll have to go up to the nice gentlemen and explain to them that I need to get to my house. They'll understand.

And, understand they did. Unfortunately, that didn't help me out any. All I got was the standard we-apologize-for-any-inconvenience-but-there's-no-way-we-can-make-any-exceptions routine. The area was officially off limits to everyone but the men in blue, including the residents. I found out that most of the spectators were not there for entertainment purposes, they were either evacuated or restrained.

I did find out the reason for all the commotion, however. There had been a robbery in one of the houses, two suspects had been apprehended and they were searching the house for two more. Apparently, the first pair just wasn't enough for them. I thought of pointing out the silver lining approach of already catching half of the criminals -- pretty darn good if you ask me -- but then I noticed a few guys clad in bullet-proof vests and carrying heavy artillery. Somehow, I didn't think they would appreciate my optimistic approach.

I asked how long they thought this little project would take. One of the less serious fellows told me that he had been told a time estimate of one half-hour, and that was two hours ago. He seemed to find this funny. I, on the other hand, did not.

I settled in my car and began reading to pass the time. It was about 4:30 by now, and I was getting restless. I went to Shell, got gasoline and ran my car through the wash. When I came back, the situation was exactly the same. Now, exactly how long does it take to search a split-level? I decided to leave my car and make a walk for it.

After trudging through a few yards covered with slippery autumn leaves, I was home. That's when I realized I was the only one home -- literally. The neighborhood was dark and deserted. It was really very creepy. I realized I would have to find my way back to my car in less than two hours. I had places to go, people to meet. The scariest moment was thinking about the officers out there with big weapons who were scouring every crevice for a prowler. What if they mistook me for one?

Fortunately, by the time I had to leave, people were starting to arrive on foot. I had one of them watch me walk back through the muddy, wet trail I came in on. I finally reached my car, and I was out of there.

I never returned that evening, but I found out from my parents that the party wasn't over until 8-8:30. I don't think they ever found the accomplices. Maybe it's just me, but the whole thing seemed a bit extravagant. I don't want to seem ungrateful, but if the citizens of New York found out about the fuss that we made over two burglars, we'd probably be laughed off the map.