The dreaded knock

It finally happened this morning, the dreaded knock on the window.

This is what vandwellers try to avoid at all costs: a police officer waking you up to drill you with questions in your most vulnerable, foggy state of mind: what are you doing here, do you live in this vehicle, do you know it’s illegal, and so on.

I got lucky this time

Officer Nunez was pretty nice, actually.

After ascertaining that I am a harmless old lady with a cute puppy wriggling to be petted through the window, he relaxed and told me he was just checking to make sure I wasn’t dead, drunk — or cooking meth!

It was good that I am white, that I have a clean, nearly new van, that I could tell him I’ve lived in the neighborhood twenty years, that I’ll be in San Diego for several weeks for obedience training for said puppy, and that I will be leaving after that.

He wrote all this down but he didn’t give me a citation even though he could have. I’m sure my presence in the area will be noted from now on, and he pointed out that I could be cited in the future. I don’t want that, so I guess I’ll have to find a new spot to sleep.

It’s called ‘stealth camping,’ this method of living on city streets and trying not to be noticed. The standard advice from oldtimers is this:

• Have sev.en or eight overnight spots and rotate them, so your presence isn’t obvious.
• Only go to your chosen spot late at night when you are ready to sleep. Then go to sleep!
• Don’t stay up on your computer, generating light that can leak out to be seen from the outside.
• Crack a couple of windows so they don’t fog up while you’re sleeping.
• Wake up early and leave right away.

I break these rules all the time and was getting overconfident.

I often stay in the same spot overnight because it feels safe there. The windows were fogged up because I kept them closed to prevent a certain puppy from barking at every little noise outside. And this morning, instead of getting up and out early, I slept in because I was exhausted from frequent puppy interactions during the night.

That’s when Officer Nunez showed up.

Now I don’t feel so confident

Even though he was nice, he wrote down all my information and now I am in some database as living on the streets in my nice, newish van.

That feels very uncomfortable to me. It makes me feel homeless, which I am most definitely not, but that’s how people like Nunez must see me.

Suddenly, I remember why I always get depressed when I stay in a city for very long.

But I need to stay here in San Diego until early June because of the puppy training class. After that, I’m gone (to Big Bear for the summer, yay!)

Stealth camping sucks.