u/Suitable-Fun-1087

So, I know I'm at least partly responsible for what happened, but I don't think I am fully to blame.

I live in an apartment on the main road along a public beach (I have scrubbed this post of identifying details). Every year there's a huge festival on the beach, and apparently it's so popular that they shut down and reroute nearly all traffic for a quarter mile around it. For residents, that means you can get out, but good luck getting back in.

On the Saturday of the festival, I left to pick up takeout from a restaurant in the next town over. I noticed heavy traffic on my street but assumed something was happening at the far end of the beach, so I headed the other way and didn't think about it.

When I got back, police had blocked the left turn onto the street that leads to mine, so I kept driving. The next turn: blocked. The one after that: blocked. Traffic was crawling. I headed for the main highway, spent twenty minutes at a rotary moving about 50 feet to my exit, and that was blocked too.

For the next hour I tried every back street I could think of and couldn't get past the perimeter. Finally I called 311 to ask about a detour for residents. Ten rings, then a recording: 311 is closed on weekends. And evenings.

I was about to lose it. I hesitated for about three minutes, then I said fuck it. If 311 isn't available then I am going to call the next best option. So I called 911 from my cell. Almost immediately, I regretted it, but they answered quick and at that point, I was already in up to my ankles.

Somehow I knew, I just knew, the operator would tell me off for calling about a traffic issue, so when she asked what my emergency was ... I told a partial lie.

I says, "I live on the beach road and I can't find a way to get back to my apartment because there is some event happening on the beach."

"Okay .... what do you want me to do about that sir?"

I says, "I don't know." Here comes the lie. "But I left the house with something on my stove and I need to get back to my apartment soon. Can you tell me what the detour is for residents?"

Three beats of silence from the operator. "Sir, you left the house with something on the stove?"

I winced, because yes, I'd be an idiot to do that. So I quickly backtracked.

"Lady, I am just trying to get home, alright? No, I didn't leave anything on the stove, I am calling because no one is available at 311 and I have been driving around this area for over an hour trying to get back to my apartment and I can't even get onto my street."

She started cursing at me for lying, telling me it's a crime and all the rest. I was completely over it, so I'm like, "I'm hanging up now."

"I need your address."

"Well I am not giving you my address. I just told you that I don't have a real emergency."

"Sir, if you don't give me your address then I am just going to call Verizon and tell them I need your address. They will give it to me."

At this point, I am pissed. "I am not giving you my fucking address. Goodbye."

I put it out of my mind and kept trying. Eventually I found a residential side street with an outlet that got me past the roadblock. Two and a half hours after I left, and about 45 minutes after I hung up on 911, I pulled into my garage with cold, soggy food and a watered-down cocktail-to-go.

When the elevator opened on my floor, a lone cop was waiting to get on. I had a feeling, but I didn't say anything.

Well, lo and behold, I get to my apartment and door was chipped, dented, and warped, like someone had tried to beat their way in. I'd locked it when I left; now it was unlocked. Inside, the place had been searched: curtains torn down, stove pulled away from the wall, footprints everywhere. But nothing else was damaged, and somehow, the door still hung and closed firmly and securely, so I put it aside and after I cleaned up the apartment, I sort of forgot about it.

Fast forward to today. Maintenance came by for a routine visit and asked about the door. I played dumb. Two hours later, the rental office emailed to say they're charging me $1,100 for a new door.

My view: I lied for three seconds, then told the truth twice and explained why I'd lied in the first place. The operator knew there was no emergency and sent responders anyway because I hung up on her. I think that's on her, not me.

So AITAH?