Posts tagged “burglary

I wanna tell you about the time I almost died….


Often I use movie quotes as the titles to my posts. It’s a daunting task because I not only try to relate the quote to something relevant in my post but the movie as well. Double jeopardy in a sense. This title came to me as I was reading my blend’s post about a rather traumatic time in her life. It made me ponder my own mortality for a moment. It’s not something I do often. I don’t lead a very death-defying lifestyle so I tend to not think about it that much. Quite frankly I feel that people who spend so much time fretting about death end up cutting their lives short by doing so. I live day-to-day and enjoy each one as though it were my last.

Her post did however make me reflect back to a time when I was confronted with my own mortality. The problem with that is you never see it coming and it happens when you least expect it. Many moons ago when I was a young lad well into his turbulent teen years, I had the aura of invincibility any youngster believes they have at that age. I hung out late, partied often and did many of the things that parents often warn you not to do. After all that’s the whole fun of being a teen right? Fighting authority and proving yourself to be infallible.

Anyway, after a night of boozing it up with the boys I found myself on the long train ride back home. Far be it for me to crash at my friend’s house, of which we were partying at, oh no no… that would be viewed as a sign of weakness and wussiness in the Cool Guy Kingdom so it was public transportation for me.  2am on the 7 train is an experience in itself. Often there were several people spread out across the car in varying states of a drunken stupor. Some laid down. Others would bob back and forth to the movements of the herky jerky train as though they were unconsciously dancing to an unheard beat. And then there’s me. Cool as a cucumber, listening to my Walkman and watching everyone through squinted Clint Eastwood eyes. I was a big dude… at least bigger than most of the deviants that prowled around in the wee morning hours so I had little to fear. In my mind you had to have pretty big balls to fuck with me – pardon my French.

After about a 45 minute ride home I made my way to my housing complex. My neighborhood was a rough one, but I had lived there all my life. I knew pretty much all the playas, thugs and dealers in the area. Heck I grew up with most of them.  I never really walked around with that sense of paranoia like most outsiders tend to do. Despite my block being a focal point for random gunfire on any given occasion, I had a kind of six sense about when and when not to be lurking around outside.

At least I did up until that night.

As I walked down a particularly shady pathway on the outskirts of my neighborhood rocking out to whatever it was that was playing on my earphones a shadow suddenly appeared out of my blind spot. I was so engrossed in the song I was listening to that I never saw the dude until he was right on me. From out of nowhere this rather haggard looking man jumped in front of me and pointed a silver .357 to my chest. I froze but somehow my ghetto survival instincts kicked in instantly because I managed to turn off my cassette player without too much movement and looked straight down at his feet – never making eye contact with him. He ordered me to give him all my cash and whatever else I had of value. I emptied my wallet very casually as if I was lending him money, never making any sudden movements and certainly never looking up at his face. I even somehow managed to converse with him because as I was handing him the few dollars I had on me I asked him if I could keep my ID because it’s a pain in the neck to get a replacement. He seemed puzzled but not agitated by my request and told me yes surprisingly. I then proceeded to give him my cheap watch and even offered my crappy Walkman. He took the watch but said no to the Walkman. For some bizarre reason I decided I might try to bargain with him. I told him it was a Sony Aiwa with SuperBass and I was positive he could get a good piece of change for it. Again, my nonchalant demeanor must have thrown him off because he said no again, but much less intensely. Kinda like “nahhh… that’s okay”.

After seeing there was not much else he could take from a poor housing project teenager, he sheathed his gun and told me to get out of there. Without hesitation I turned and walked, not ran, away. As I turned my back on him my heart was in my throat. I knew for certain that went far too well for a robbery and he was going to shoot me right in the back. I kept walking without looking back. I was tense as if bracing for an impact. After a couple hundred feet I was at the front door to my building. I reached for my keys and almost couldn’t unlock the door because my hand was trembling so much. When I finally got inside my house I went straight to my room. To say I was sober as a nun by that point would be an understatement. I sat on my bed and a chill ran down from the base of my skull to the tip of my spine that lasted for about a minute.

I didn’t feel invincible anymore. I just felt incredibly lucky.

It took me a long time to ever tell anyone that story to anyone. I think my father was the first one and that came nearly 10 years after it happened. I never reported to the police and never sought revenge or anything. It was a situation I foolishly put myself in due to my own negligence so I just let it be. I was just thankful that I survived.

What did I learn from all of this?

A few things. I learned to never be black on a Saturday night and go walking down a dark path. Nothing ever good happens in the movies so why did I think it’d be any different there? I also learned robbers don’t bargain well. That Walkman lasted me all through high school and 4 years after that. He missed out royally on a great deal. I learned parents are actually right – kids really are stupid. Most of all though I learned that I have awesome Jedi powers and can mindfuck people at will.

Seriously though, not many people have a moment in their life where the end is quite literally in front of you. It’s a feeling I wouldn’t wish on even my worst enemy – the feeling of absolute loss of control.  If I had it to do all over again, strangely enough, I wouldn’t change a thing. As traumatic as it was that night made me a better person.

[I’m playing Guess the Movie I Quoted from now on so guess away without Googling… even though I know you will]

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My grandpa asked me one time if I care whether I live or die. Yeah I do. Now it’s too late.


A few weeks ago I was at home watching the morning news sipping away at a poorly made cup of coffee. My attention was more focused on the 3D character I’d been working on for the past couple of days but somehow the news broadcaster’s robotic voice seemed to find it’s way into my ear. He rambled on about the poor season the farmers out west were having and how a young girl at the local middle school won an award for her commitment to the community by tending to the elderly after school. I was about to tune out the broadcast in favor of the tune my brain decided to play in my head when something caught my attention.

The anchorman was midway into alerting the viewers about a string of burglaries in the area. This peaked my interest of course so I swung my chair around and turned up the volume. He continued with his report stating that the assailants were brazen and broke in at any point in the day or night. While there had been no reports of anyone being assaulted or injured the criminal acts were still heinous enough to give me some very warranted concern for not only my safety but that of my wife as well. Seven houses and apartments in my neighborhood had been robbed in the past 3 days alone. I could feel my heart start to rise into my throat as they showed a map of the outlaying area with little red blips marking where the criminals had struck.

My house was dead center.

As a precaution I made it a point to take a tour of the outside of my house to make sure all my windows and doors were secured. I felt a little silly doing so because, after all, I’m a 220lb grown man who spent 20+ years in one of New York City’s roughest neighborhoods. I can handle myself.  I laughed off my paranoia and went back inside. I had a long day ahead of me. The wife was gone for the day and I had a ton of web projects to complete so I settled in for the long haul. With a fresh cup of joe at my side I placed my earphones on, set the iPod to shuffle and hit play. T.Rex’s “Get it on” blared as I proceeded to rock out in proper work fashion.

I was a half hour into my first project when the unthinkable happened. Without warning something wrapped tightly around my throat and pulled me backwards. I slid out of my seat and crashed hard onto my back. With Arcade Fire’s “Wake up” ringing in my ears, I looked up through pained eyes only to an orange and black striped tiger grinning at me. He couldn’t have been more than half a man high in height but he looked monstrous from my perspective. I laid there frozen in fear as he  proceeded to hop around in a rhythmic manner. His demented raspy laugh sent chills down my spine. I could hear all kinds of commotion going on in my kitchen. It sounded as though a mob of people were rifling though my cabinets. His tail was still wrapped around my throat so I couldn’t maneuver my head around to see who else was here.

After a few agonizing minutes the banging and crashing ceased and the tiger’s powerful grip on my jugular loosened. I quickly spun around and pressed my back against my desk. There he stood. A golden bear with a tight red shirt. He was barely 4ft tall and was holding the bottle of Honey Bee honey I just purchased the other day for a dessert recipe I was going to try. He smiled at me devilishly as he tilted his head back and slurped down half the bottle in one gulp. Honey dripped off his arm and trickled down his bulbous stomach. The tiger seemed to relish in delight over his accomplice’s rather insolent gesture, laughing menacingly as he coiled his tail underneath him and bounced even higher. The golden bear wiped his honey matted mouth and looked at me intently and uttered this one sentence to me..

“Promise me you’ll never forget me because if I thought you would I’d never leave.”

I fearfully shook my head in compliance. A wide smile spread across his face as he slowly turned around and began to waddle away with his energetic companion in tow. They left through the door I forgot to lock earlier…

This piece of fiction was written in response to The Hippie Cahier Experiment.