It was
almost after dinner and the Police was at my door. No, this was not on my list
of things to do in a foreign country. I gobble down the last bit of my half
cooked mustard salmon and I am out the door in a flash. It's never wise
to keep the law waiting. The excitement of getting to ride a
police vehicle and sitting in the front seat is a tad diminished when I am
told that I am going down to the precinct to sign a waiver. Err...
what waiver? Standard procedure... in case I get into a shoot out or something,
just to make sure I can’t blame the department. Gulp!
But this
is Boulder City, Nevada nothing really ever happens here.
With
those words of wisdom we are off patrolling the safest city in America, probably in
the world. People lock their homes here but rely on batty old dogs
instead of burglar alarms. Then again, no burglaries have been reported here in
the last 20 years.
For all
practical purposes Boulder city is not a city. Why in India it would be
considered a town-ling! Its claim to fame is being the first planned city/ town
in the United States. It emerged as a result of the influx of workers who came
to build the Hoover/ Boulder dam and stayed on for a piece of the
American dream. Hardly an hour away from Vegas, it's the only place in Nevada
which does not allow gambling. For a long while alcohol was illegal
and I am glad I visited after that particular restriction was done away
with. With its manicured lawns, parks and brick buildings it is quaint and
beautiful. The folks here like their art and somebody had a brilliant idea to put
life like bronze sculptures all around town. A ceramic white and pink
polka dotted cow, spotted (pun intended) outside a local restaurant is
my favourite. Which doesn't say much about my art appreciation
skills.
Patrolling a crime free city is doubly hard. Think about the standards to live
up to. In a parking lot we come across two young magazine salesmen from out of
town. Salesmen are considered a particular breed of menace even in this
part of the world. The officer rolls down his window and casually introduces
himself, and asks the visitors if everything is all right. And even I know
that’s the international code for - Every breath you take, every move you make...I'll
be watching you.
Our next stop is a RV park. Boulder City attracts its fair share of tourists.
Some come to see the dam, and some for the damn weather. I am introduced to the
concept of Snow Birding. I was thinking on the lines of ornithology when I am
informed it is more a seasonal migration of the geriatric population. When in
winter their hometowns get cold and dreary they pack their bags and load up
their RV’s to soak in some desert sun. For most, this is a yearly ritual.
Though why someone would trade the comforts of indoor plumbing for a
trailer in a RV park is beyond me.
We move to the seedier part of town. Big homes with manicured gardens give way
to apartment blocks. My degree in sociology and my
prejudice kicks in, and I ask the officer whether more domestic
violence incidences are reported from here compared to the rest of the city.
Well yes, he says. If you live in an apartment your neighbours hear
you through the walls. In big lots with an acreage cushioning, you are
isolated. If no one can hear you, you don't add up to the statistics.
Having
almost given up looking for potential criminals, out of the corner of my eye, I
chance upon two people suspiciously lurking in the shadows of a brick
building. Rendezvous of drug dealers? I ask. My excitement
knows no bounds. Finally, Some nefarious action in this upright town.
Nope, He says, Just Sculptures! When you have been patrolling the same neighbourhood for
twenty years, you learn to tell the drug lords and the bronze work apart.
After failing as a crime fighting sidekick and then jumping with Olympian precision,
to one incorrect conclusion after the other I surrender my crime fighting
cape. It isn't a Dam Fine City for nothing.
