You voted for it. My next episode of sporadic, sardonic commentary highly favored the topic of Christopher Dorner. (AKA: Fugitive Ex-LAPD Officer, Crazy Cop Killer, Big Scary Fat Man Creeping around Big Bear.)
Of course, the choice with potential blood, guts, guns, and death steals the show… and you want to hear about it.
But if my involvement with the story had any relation to the above potentials, you would have seen my face (or my obituary) glowing in your home on your TV screen. You should know that. Instead, I managed to escape the spotlight, and the gun sight… just barely.
So if you want to read yet another account on stringing connections along to make the story more dramatic and personal to the point of discrediting yawndom…. I do not want to do that. The media members, whom were camped outside my residence, covered that quite well enough already…
Oh Hello Neighbors! (My media friends camped outside for the week.)
But for those of you who did not know… Yeah. I really was his neighbor for the week. And I am not skewing the facts or reality in any way to claim it…
I was living/house-sitting/dog-sitting in the off-white building, pictured in the left corner of the yellow circle from February 5th-February 11th, utilizing prime snowboarding real-estate across from Bear Mountain, while my friend was vacationing and snowboarding in Colorado. Dorner was living in the building next door, with believed suspected dates of February 6th-February 12th.
Apparently I am not the only one that likes to move in to someone else’s house across from Bear Mountain, get comfortable, and pirate free internet, TV, and heat for the week. Dorner and I know how to do it.
I could be more dramatic about all of this I suppose. His footprints were found in my laundry room, and that it seemed as though he tried to break into the house I was staying in, but the dog probably scared him away. This is all hearsay, by the way. (So you are hearing hearsay from hearsay so you have no right to go and tell anyone this is absolutely true.)
But really… Being dramatic about all this seems so wrong to do, especially while it was all happening, I was living my normal life. I quite honestly thought Christopher Dorner was a frozen Snowman…cold and dead. That, or smoking a doobie in Tijuana.
Continuing on with the story, Christopher Dorner and I shared more than just housing preferences for the week. We shared some trail time too. Trail 2N10. He was sneaking around and burning trucks while I was running around and taking pictures of “Dog.” I seriously wonder if Dorner saw me peeing in the woods. He was probably stifling a laugh to remain in hiding while I just squatted there with my running tights around my ankles, shooing the damn dog away.
Trail time with Dog (And maybe Dorner?)
There are other little tales I could tell of the week, but the fact is… I am alive, unhurt and unscathed… and what is interesting about that? Boring, I know. You wanted to hear something creepy and gory… You are sick. All of you.
Instead, just because it is quite the opposite of what was requested… And because I hardly ever mention it… Another dude crept into Big Bear the same week as Dorner.
He came armed too. But not with guns. Along with his good looks, once it was a year’s supply of Powerbars, and another time a year’s supply of beer and almond butter. (These year supplies only last me about a month because I love them so much.)
But anyway, the cops didn’t manage to stop and find Dorner all week but they managed to stop this other guy…. and while they were questioning him, he told them he was just here to visit his girlfriend. And then he knocked on my door.
So yeah. I’ve got one of those things now. That’s new.
And Dorner got to watch it happen. Young love. Ha. I bet it made him sick… especially while he was contemplating murder and suicide and revenge.
Mostly, I hope this sweet little anecdote made you sick too… because I am sick like that. Sweet revenge for making me write about Dorner.
Basically the end all thing I really took from the excitement of some murderer next door was that I live a life almost parallel to that of a fugitive killer: Escaping the real world by running away to the weird little city of Big Bear, trampling around the woods in god awful winter weather, hiding out in other peoples houses…. etc. I guess I am a bit of a crazy person.
However… that’s a runner for you. We all have at least a little bit of crazy in us… and you are crazy if you even try to deny it.