It's midnight. Snowflakes are starting to fall an hour before the weather forecast predicted. I'm on the corner of Pearl street and 17th in my hometown of Boulder, Colorado. With the blend of Baby Boomers and Tech Wizards this little city could be a poster-child for the great generational handoff that America is currently undergoing.
Before the snow flurries began to fall I painted five of six layers of a dog portrait. Tonight I am painting on a federal postbox which makes it a federal crime. It's always a tad more exhilarating for me when I paint on a postbox, knowing that the punishment if caught is more steep than usual. And I know that in the morning when people see the painting they’ll have the same thought, they’ll sense the thrill of painting it and get a little second hand rush of adrenaline.
I am crouched in a dark alley ten meters from the postbox. A few cars are on the streets but most Boulderites are hunkered down at home with the furnace cranked. It's been cold for months and the pavement and asphalt feels like a glacier. When the snowflakes land they stick to the asphalt and they don't melt. I peek around the corner at the postbox and it's still dry but I better hustle and finish this painting.
I open my black plastic briefcase where I’ve stored the evenings stencils and I exchange layer five for layer six. I put a piece of blue tape on all four sides of the stencil. My black backpack full of spray paint leans against the brick wall of the alley and I fumble through the contents until I find the three colors I will paint on the sixth and final stencil. The cans go into a sturdy manpurse... I stand tall, take a deep breath and let my thoughts fall away into total focus. In my mind it’s like I’m not really here at all and so I know that I’m ready.
There are no cars around and no pedestrians so I step from the alley with stencil in hand. I saunter to the postbox and wipe away the few flakes of snow that have landed on the fresh painting. I use the dogs eyes to line up this layer of the painting and when it is aligned perfectly I press the tape to the postbox and secure the stencil in place.
Deep breath.
Beige is the predominant color for this final layer of the painting. I screw the spraycap onto the beige can of spraypaint. I’ve used this stencil several times and the colors on it from previous sprays make it easy to decipher where to change color on the dogs fur.
I crouch with my face a few feet from the painting. There's a streetlight on the far side of the postbox but here on the sidewalk beside the streetlight I paint in shadows. I've finished with the beige and switch the cap to a can of Sahara Yellow. As a bus drives by on Pearl Street I stand and hide the spraypaint in the pocket of my peacoat. The street is covered in a dusting of soft large snowflakes and I note how this muffles the roar of the bus.
Behind me, to my left on 17th Street, I hear the gentle hiss of car breaks. The breath catches in my throat. I almost never get caught off guard like this. I lean nonchalantly against the postbox so that my body hides the stencil. I jam the spraypaint against the right side of my jaw, hidden under the brim of my hoodie and I pretend that it’s a cell phone. I coolly look to my left to see what kind of car is at the stoplight.
It's a cop car.
My heart falls into my stomach.
Did the cop see me painting?
Back in my school days I was a sprinter, sixty-meters was my specialty and I still think that I can outrun everything that comes my way. In reality if I run now I'll probably get roped in by 15th Street-- there's a police station a block away and this historic downtown part of Boulder swarms with the police.
The cop looks at me. It's a young man with a buzz cut and a clean shaven lantern job. He's staring at me.
I look up into the falling snow and take a deep breath. I am acting. These first 5 seconds under police observation are crucial. If I act skittish and suspicious he'll accost me. If I give him the vibe that I'm a lawful citizen in the right place at the right time, just another patriot following standard protocol, than I'm off the hook. “Hey honey”, I say, speaking loudly into the can of spraypaint like it's my phone. “I didn't want to deal with the bus tonight so I got Uber. I'm waiting for it now and I should be home soon.”
I pause and act like I'm listening to someone on the other end of the line. I nod and move my lips like I'm cooing concurment. “Mmm-hmm. Yep. I know.”
The street light turns yellow and the cop lurches forward at a slow pace. There are no other cars around so the cop takes his time turning left and even pauses in the intersection. I see his eyes in his rearview mirror and he's still watching me.
I step away from the postbox and look to the right down Pearl street like I am searching for my Uber and I say, “Yeah Hon, I called 5 minutes ago so it should be here at any moment.”
The cop heads left on Pearl at a slow pace and although I can't see his rearview mirror anymore my intuition says that I'm under surveillance so I keep the charade going.
The cop never speeds his pace to more than a creep and he takes a quick left a block away onto 18th Street. He'll be back quickstyle, they love the loop-around trick, but only an idiot would fall for it here and now. I jam the Sahara yellow spraypaint into my manpurse and I rip the stencil from the postbox and sprint the ten-meters to the alley where my bag is hidden. I'll finish the painting later but I need to ghost out of here ASAP. I throw the manpurse into my backpack and tape the stencil to the side of my briefcase... from my shadowed vantage point I see the cop car emerge from the alley across the street. The cop is looking towards the postbox and hasn't seen me yet. My alley turns into a dead end twenty-meters behind me and the sidewalk is lit from the gray sky winter glow so if I leave the shadows the cop will see me.
The only car on my side of the alley is a Jeep Cherokee with high clearance. As the cop car pulls onto 17th Street I dive across the alley and slide my slender body beneath the Jeep. I put the briefcase in front of my eyes so that it hides me from the street. I peek over it like a bunkered soldier in a World War One.
The cop car drifts towards the stoplight on Pearl and shines his searchlight on the postbox and reveals the painting. I can barely see the painting from here but damn it looks good! The cop car hisses to a stop and the brake lights go out as he pulls the emergency brake and hustles out of his car and to the postbox. Now he knows what I was doing. Now he knows that a vandal slipped his grasp.
Laying here beneath this Jeep with icy water seeping into my clothes I realize that the snowflakes haven't started sticking to the sidewalk, only the asphalt. I've left no tracks for the cop to follow. Chances are that if I wait him out down here he'll be gone in minutes.
The cop circles the postbox and then touches my painting. He looks at the wet paint on his fingertip and then he roars with laughter. He slaps his thigh and then hunches with a hand over his mouth to muffle the outburst. He stops laughing and stands tall and regains his composure. He gives one last look in all four directions and then removes an iPhone from his pocket. He snaps a picture of the dog portrait. Evidence, tis what I surmise. He fidgets on the iPhone for a moment and as he walks back to his car I hear Google activate on his phone. In a clear baritone, annunciating every syllable, he tells Google to send this text: hey babes! I found another smile tonight! It's about time he throws a bone to us dog people. Not the best picture because it's nighttime but if you share that on Instagram you will be the first. Love you!
The cop gets back into his car but as he closes his car door to leave I hear him say, “Google: send image text now.”
.