10. We Are All Just Fine

This afternoon we went to the mall to see Ratatouille (a different mall than the one featured in post #9). The movie is about food and Paris, so of course Nina has been eagerly awaiting the movie since she first caught wind of it. Ben and Heather and Jake were there as well.

We saw all but maybe the last 60 seconds, I think. Based on what was happening on screen, the movie was about to wrap up. We absolutely loved what we saw. But, just before the end a man in street close walked to the front of the theater, and said, "everyone has to leave", and opened the emergency exit. The house lights stayed off, and the movie kept playing. The man did not appear to be a policeman or a theater employee. But, we all calmly got up from our seats and shuffled out the emergency exit onto the roof of the mall, wondering if maybe there was a fire or something. The patrons of the other 19 theaters streamed out as well.

I was so proud of the whole several hundred of us. Nobody panicked. Nobody screamed or ran or jumped. Nobody knew exactly what was going on, but someone talking on a cellphone said there had been gunfire.

We were led down a stairway to find the whole mall being surrounded with yellow "Police Line" tape. Before us were a couple ambulances, a firetruck, and possibly every police car in Tucson. We made our way to our cars, and, considering everything, made it out of the mall pretty smoothly. The entire mall was evacuated.

Details are still emerging, but what we know so far is that a verbal altercation between two shoppers (possibly gang members) turned violent, one of them pulled a gun and they struggled for it. Three shots were fired, both of the fighters and one innocent bystander were wounded, apparently none seriously. The incident happened at 3 pm, the mall was reopened at 5.

A lot more excitement than I was counting on for a Sunday afternoon, but we are all just fine. Except we don't know how the movie ends.

9. Hassled by the Rent-A-Cops

I have a cinnamon-colored 1966 Volkswagen Bug. Depending on how you count it, it's my 3rd or 4th bug. It is the sentimental favorite of the cars I own, though sadly it won't be the car I use for the big road trip.

My friend Shaun has a '71 bug and a '61 bug, and he is part of a bug club. I have been meaning to join it, but being part of anything at all takes a certain level of organization of which I am apparently not capable.

But Shaun reminded me they were meeting tonight -- meet at Starbucks for Frappachinos, cruise to In-N-Out for double doubles. You can't say no to that! So I find myself cruising down Broadway with seven other bug owners. We arrive en masse at the mall (the In-N-Out is in the corner of the mall parking lot), and we more-or-less simultaneously back in to eight adjacent spaces. Eight hoods smiling at the burger joint.

Mall security then shows up in force on their 10-speeds, firmly but politely informing us that car clubs are not allowed to meet in the mall parking lot; we have half an hour to get our food and get out. Some of the gang got their undies all in a bunch over this, but to me the whole gang experience would have been incomplete without being hassled by the rent-a-cops.

The manager of the In-N-Out, by contrast, was well aware that it is good karma to have a parking lot full of old VWs, and he told us to stay as long as we liked.

There are two VW gangs in Tucson. The one that allows owners of newer-than-1968-vehicles and the one that does not. And apparently, they hate each other. Apparently you can't just be part of both, though I'd kind of like to test that theory.

Maybe, through reason, compromise, and enlightenment, I could make both sides see that this hatred serves no purpose -- that deep down, we are all brothers. Maybe we could put aside all this animosity, and bring these two clubs together as one.

And we could all hate on the Honda owners.