Return of the things

It appears that the world's longest round of 'Are You Smarter Than a Suburban Danish Policeman?' is finally over. I got a buzz and a knock this morning, accompanied by a grocery bag heavy with my laptop and a Medusa of router, modem and power cords.

'We hope you're telling the truth,' the Grande cop said.

'You really should secure your wireless connection,' said Venti. 

I wholeheartedly agree, and plan to spend the afternoon reconnecting the various bands, broad and otherwise, to my Criminal Command Center. I'm making sure my network is teenager-proof from now on, and I'll set my password to something like 'Electric Light Orchestra' to make sure they can never crack it.

Lessons Learned:

Secure Your Wireless: Naming your network 'Oi! Unhand my shit!' is apparently not enough.

Push The Cops to Do Your Bidding: On Monday, a friend told me, 'In Scandinavia, the police won't do anything unless you make them do it.' Since then, I've called the Hvidovre Police every morning, serving up a jumbalaya of pleas, righteous half-truths ('I work from home!)' and requests for managers in an attempt to kick-start their IT department. I was always nice during these calls, but the whole world knows that there is nothing more obnoxious than a 1.5-lingual American calling you all the time. Even invoking the spectre of our customer-servicely wrath tends to get things moving.

It's Not All Bad: Yes, the Danish police de-Internetted me for 10 days. But they also found my stolen wallet last week, sans cash, and sent it back to me. And once helped me up when I drunkenly Howard Hughes'd into a wall on my bike. And let me off the hook sometimes. This whole incident was the universe correcting my cop-karma.

Seriously, Secure Your Frapping Wireless: For Hell, I'm not gonna forget this one anytime soon.