Mitchell and I are walking the dogs in Mears Park when we hear a thud.
We and several other dog walkers run over to a man splayed out in the middle of the park.
The man is unconscious and turning blue.
I dial 911.
We and several other dog walkers run over to a man splayed out in the middle of the park.
The man is unconscious and turning blue.
I dial 911.
The park is the heart of the Lowertown District and is lined with condos, apartments, and restaurants.
When it’s not snowing, Mears Park constantly hosts events like music festivals, weddings, food trucks, movies, and concerts.
The event schedule brings life to the neighborhood, but also makes street parking and dog walking a chore for locals.
Mears is an uniquely urban park, with an interesting mix of professionals, bar hoppers, artists, and the homeless. We’ve met a lot of our neighbors at the park’s dog area, and run across several creepy characters.
I’m washing the dishes after dinner when I hear a WAMP-WAMP-WAMP coming from Mears Park.
Mitchell: “There’s a helicopter outside. Oh, there’s another one – and it has a bunch of guys with guns hanging out of it! What the hell?”
We rush to the window and see several helicopters circling low over the park. Apartment windows around the park fly open as people take pictures.
We exchange uncomfortable looks with our neighbors. Maybe there’s a manhunt going on? Terrorist attack?
Eventually, we have to take the dogs outside despite Mears Park feeling like Little Baghdad. We run into another dog walker in Mears Park and she tells us that the helicopters are part of urban warfare games.
Neighbor: “Yeah, I had to call the cops to ask if we were under attack, and they said that it was some urban warfare drill. They didn’t say how long it would take or what the hell they plan on using helicopters for. This isn’t Ferguson…”
On Twitter, a there’s a flood of St. Paul and Minneapolis downtowners bitching about the helicopters while tagging local news anchors (who also seem to be unaware of the drills.) The local news stations didn’t even announce the Defense Department training exercises until after they began.
The helicopters continue circling our park until after dark. We watch as the unlit helicopters swoop really close to the Galtier balconies. A few times it looks like the helicopters would land in alleyways.
Flying helicopters over residential neighborhoods is sketchy enough – flying war choppers next to people’s balconies without notice is completely unacceptable.
My neighborhood isn’t a war game arena, and the police (or feds, whatever) should make us feel safe, and not be terrifying us with unannounced military exercises. The training is expected to continue for a few days, so hopefully it’s something that we can get used to.
The majority of these people seem to wander over from the homeless shelter across town or from the bus stops on Minnesota Street.
That’s why call them tourists.
We have just arrived in at the park when one of our neighbors approaches us. She’s a short blond woman who owns a dachshund.
Like most of our neighbors, we recognize her dog, but have no clue what her name is.
Neighbor: “Sorry if this is weird, but can I borrow one of your phones to call the police? I forgot mine.”
Me: “Uh…sure…what…what’s going on?”
Neighbor: “There’s this guy over there passed out in the middle of the sidewalk. I talked to him and he’s completely out of it. He’s drunk.”
I walk to the center of the park and see a middle aged white guy sleeping on a backpack near the Galtier Tower.
His drunk mumbling instantly brought me back to my RA days, herding passed out freshmen.
Our passed out friend hears the sirens and springs to life. He’s already propped up on the railing of the fountain when the fire truck swings around the corner.
About six paramedics jump out of the firetruck. We point them toward the drunkard.
The paramedics briefly talk to the drunk guy and then stroll back to the truck while rolling their eyes. This guy is obviously not worth their time.
A St. Paul Police squad car pulls onto the sidewalk as the paramedics leave. A police officer briefly chats up the drunk guy and eventually tells him to move along.
By this time about a dozen of our neighbors are huddled around us with their dogs, intently watching the cop car.
I was surprised that the cop initially let this guy go in the first place, given how drunk he was. Two weeks ago we saw 6 or 7 cops swarm a black guy who was drinking beer in the park.
The now-awake guy walks toward the Bulldog Restaurant on the other side of the park. He reaches the corner of the park just as the fire truck rounds the corner.
The drunk guy starts screaming at the fire truck. We all watch as the cop jumps in his car, speeds 50 feet across the park, hops out, and slaps handcuffs on the drunk guy who he should have arrested in the first place.
We begin telling the drunkard arrest story to one of our neighbors when we notice a cop car on 5th Street.
The squad car screeches to a halt near the bus stop across from the park.
Two cops get of the squad car and a black guy immediately starts running down the street. The cops chase after the guy as he screams “PLEASE! PLEASE! DON’T SHOOT ME!”
The cops get the guy on the ground but he keeps screaming. Backup squad cars materialize and soon we have about six cops on the street.
Predictably, the lights and commotion attracts a bunch of our dog walking neighbors.
They gather around us just in time to watch the cops pull a gun off the guy and place it in an evidence bag before throwing him in the back of a squad car.
St. Paul police officers arresting someone in Mears Park.
Shortly after the last squad car left, another Mears Park regular walks up to us. He lives by the nearby Wacouta Commons Park and owns a bug-eyed Chihuahua.
Me: “You missed the show.”
Wacouta Guy: “Oh?”
Me: “Yep. Someone was just arrested at the bus stop. He had a gun.”
Wacouta Guy: “Ugh. I came to this park to get away from that kind of show. I just called the cops before the dog walk — a guy was getting beat up by a group in front of my condo.”
Great.
Stay classy, St. Paul.