The crinkling of a plastic bag echos off the white panelled ceiling. A dull glow of fluorescent light illuminates my pale forearms. My fingers plunge through the contents of the bag, searching frantically for a lost cell phone cable. Now into a cardboard box of DVDs and plastic airsoft pellets. With a thud, I drop the box in frustration. It has to be here! My eyes scan the cubicle, working in unison with my brain to match images with memory. Where did I put that thing? Stopping to take a breath, a bead of sweat rolls down my cheek. How can I be burning up inside this air conditioned office? Yes, I've got it. I remember it's in a Ziploc under some manila folders in the other cardboard box. Scrape, the lid is off and the cable is in hand! Suddenly, I am aware of the dead silence of an empty office on Saturday.
As I bolt for the stairs, the heavy wood door leading to the lobby swings open on my right. Blip, static, beep, his radio gurgles. "I've got nothing to hide," I think to myself. Without thinking I mutter, "I found what I was looking for" and start to open the stairway door. His red striped tie bounces off his gut and folds over his rent-a-cop badge as the guard turns after passing me. "Um, can I see your I.D.?" he manages to stammer just as I'm about to close the door behind me. There's no reason to run, although I could beat this greasy-haired tool on one leg if I had to. "Sure. See, I work right here. I just had to grab something before heading out for the weekend. Sorry about the noise." I cut off his babble about someone stealing documents from the second floor with a slam of the stairway door and I'm home free.
The office is more than a place for me to work now. It's personal storage. I've got tools, books, truck parts, a 2 ton automotive floor jack, and food all stowed away inside my file cabinets. I need some of this stuff on the weekends, so dodging security is a must. I don't want them getting suspicious and blowing my cover or worse, so extreme times call for extreme measures. The other day I told the parking lot security that I needed to leave my car there overnight. Usually they are cool, but this time he pried, "Why?" I gave him a blank look and it only took a moment for him to answer his own question. Kicking his head back and throwing a hang ten hand signal towards his lips, he shouted to his colleague, "This guy is going to the after-work social and is gonna be drinking. He needs to leave his car here." Done. It was that easy. I just let him assume I'd be at the coincidental "after-work social" and I had a free pass for the night. I guess doing nothing is doing something, sometimes.
On one final note, I was given a choice to be honest or lie to my dad and I chose the former, thank God. He received the title for my 4runner in the mail and asked me what it was for. At that moment I thought to myself, "I can tell him I lost the title for Teeny Greeny and ordered a replacement." Is it worth it, though, because eventually I'll have to expose the truth when I show my parents the SUV I've been sleeping in for the last few weeks. I sacked up and told him I bought something, unloaded all the "sleeping" evidence, and rolled down to his house. Perfect. They are happy I bought a new car, but they still don't know that I'm living in it.
Vagabond Tip of the Day: When standing in nothing but boxers at 3 a.m. in the morning, balancing with your frozen toes curled over the edge of a sidewalk curb, and peeing into a residential neighborhood gutter, duck when you see headlights.
As I bolt for the stairs, the heavy wood door leading to the lobby swings open on my right. Blip, static, beep, his radio gurgles. "I've got nothing to hide," I think to myself. Without thinking I mutter, "I found what I was looking for" and start to open the stairway door. His red striped tie bounces off his gut and folds over his rent-a-cop badge as the guard turns after passing me. "Um, can I see your I.D.?" he manages to stammer just as I'm about to close the door behind me. There's no reason to run, although I could beat this greasy-haired tool on one leg if I had to. "Sure. See, I work right here. I just had to grab something before heading out for the weekend. Sorry about the noise." I cut off his babble about someone stealing documents from the second floor with a slam of the stairway door and I'm home free.
The office is more than a place for me to work now. It's personal storage. I've got tools, books, truck parts, a 2 ton automotive floor jack, and food all stowed away inside my file cabinets. I need some of this stuff on the weekends, so dodging security is a must. I don't want them getting suspicious and blowing my cover or worse, so extreme times call for extreme measures. The other day I told the parking lot security that I needed to leave my car there overnight. Usually they are cool, but this time he pried, "Why?" I gave him a blank look and it only took a moment for him to answer his own question. Kicking his head back and throwing a hang ten hand signal towards his lips, he shouted to his colleague, "This guy is going to the after-work social and is gonna be drinking. He needs to leave his car here." Done. It was that easy. I just let him assume I'd be at the coincidental "after-work social" and I had a free pass for the night. I guess doing nothing is doing something, sometimes.
On one final note, I was given a choice to be honest or lie to my dad and I chose the former, thank God. He received the title for my 4runner in the mail and asked me what it was for. At that moment I thought to myself, "I can tell him I lost the title for Teeny Greeny and ordered a replacement." Is it worth it, though, because eventually I'll have to expose the truth when I show my parents the SUV I've been sleeping in for the last few weeks. I sacked up and told him I bought something, unloaded all the "sleeping" evidence, and rolled down to his house. Perfect. They are happy I bought a new car, but they still don't know that I'm living in it.
Vagabond Tip of the Day: When standing in nothing but boxers at 3 a.m. in the morning, balancing with your frozen toes curled over the edge of a sidewalk curb, and peeing into a residential neighborhood gutter, duck when you see headlights.
4 comments:
Sounds like you are building up your leadership skills to launch "BUMCITY SAN DIEGO" - lead by example...right? If you ever need a hot meal or a hot shower, just roll over to the Tunrer pad - 10 Blackswan, Irving, 92604.
PS - Hope Shadow keeps you warm.
I have been reading through all of your entries. What you are doing is truly courageous. I think this experience will help you transition from one chapter in your life to the next. However, and you may have already addressed this, I still am not understanding why you are embarking on this strange, yet astonishing journey?
By the way, your entries are VERY well written. I highly recommend that you keep a journal while you are doing this and get it published!!
Maverick, You are unbelievable. I really am stunned. I shouldn't be thou, i always new that you had the greatest adventures in you. This is a small one thou in comparison to what you are going to be doing soon. Watch and see, you are going to become and adict for the thrill. Better start dreamin about your next big adventure, I am sure that it is on the Horizon. (Sailing around the world). Invite me please!
I am proud of you Bro, keep pursuing your dreams.
Ezra.
Finally started reading your blog bro. I love the "Vagabond Tip of the Day" Feel free to call anytime as I'm sure it will help combat those random spots of boredom. Stay safe out there and let me know if you need any help with those pesky law men.
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