Scary rich people

In my hair-pulling, teeth-gnashing frustration trying to find a parking space (seems to get harder and harder every night), I found myself wandering into a super-rich neigbhborhood. Like, multimillon-dollar walk-up mansions and super-upscale luxury apartments, movie stars live here. And I found a spot right on a fairly big, ordinary-looking street! So I decided to settle in.

I hear footsteps. The footsteps get closer. Clomp clomp clomp-- women's shoes or boots or something with heels. No big deal. Then they stop. Then they walk away, fast. Hmm. I continue getting my dinner ready.

A few minutes later, footsteps again, getting closer, but a couple people. They stop. And I hear a conversation pick up again in the middle, in a tony, upper-class female San Francisco drawl: "I dunno. I've never seen a truck like THAT before!" More conversation, but at this point I don't hear it, because I'm putting everything away immediately and preparing to get underway. The footsteps go away again. I jump into the front seat, start up the beast, and high-tail it out of there faster than you can say "Gee, honey, do you think we should call the cops?".

There is nothing stealthy about a big box van in a rich neighborhood. Doh.