Thursday, October 4, 2012
Station No. 11
Ladies and gentlemen, the story you're about to hear is true. I'd left my wallet out on my desk in my room in my college dormitory. I walked away for just a few minutes. Then I couldn't find my wallet. It took me a long time to convince myself that I hadn't just misplaced it, which seemed likely, but eventually I reported it missing. Several months later, I received a call to pick up my wallet at the police station. It was in an evidence bag, a plastic bag with numbers. It smelled of mildew, and nothing in it was useful anymore. A boy had been caught stealing and led the police to his outdoor stash of wallets. He'd already been tried and convicted before the police told me they had my wallet.
I like the look of this police station. I'm pretty sure it's been in lots of movies and television shows. It's not quite as Easter egg colored as the painting. I painted it from across the street under a tree outside Coco's which used to be Bob's Big Boy. I used to have a roommate that worked there. That's another one of the City's stories.