More fun in downtown Houston

The wife and I are at the school working on the Law Review assignment from Hell when we decide to take a break and go have dinner. Planning on a bountiful feast at the lovely McDonald’s, we start walking to the car. When we were a half-block away from the corner of San Jacinto and Bell, we saw a group of yoots (about four guys in their late teens/early twenties) vandalizing the bus stop; they were knocking over the newspaper holders and throwing the papers around. I'm not sure how one would classify doing this as entertainment, but to each his own.

Not yet having a concealed weapon permit, we turned and walked back to the school. Being civic minded individuals, we called 911 to report the crime in progress. This part is fun. After twelve rings, a person picks up. She asked, in a very slurred and garbled voice, what city I’m in. I reply and, while I’m attempting to explain the situation, she abruptly transfers me. Once I start talking to the next person (who is equally difficult to understand), I explain the situation. She asks if I need fire, EMS or police. I was tempted to request a fire truck just to see the firefighters break out the axes, but I asked for the police. She then―again without warning―transfers me to some other person. This woman again asks if I need the police and then asks me what is going on. I explain the situation and she tells me that I need the Metro Police.

She then transfers me to the even more difficult to hear Metro Police, and I start to tell what happened. About three seconds into the narrative, she cuts me off. I had a full signal, the phone didn’t make the dropped call sound and have never dropped a call at that location (despite talking on my phone at that point twice a day for three semesters). I guess the Metro Police is too busy doing God-knows-what to try to stop a pillaging band of vagabonds who are blocking me from my car and thus my Extra Value Meal.