Ghetto Stakeout

If ever I needed to train for something it was probably last night's stakeout.


Living in the ghetto presents unique opportunities for personal growth. Qualities like stealth, sneaking, sprinting, sign language, martial arts, self-defense, tantric breathing to warm your body in the sub-zero apt temps. I appreciate these challenges but I'm a little more Chuck Bartowski (without the computer chip brain) than Sydney Bristow. And if you don't watch crazy, romantic and satirical CIA teledramas I'll give you a run down on my spy achievements.

Stealth-Black is the dominate color of my wardrobe.

Sneaking-My joints pop about every hour, that means I have 59 minutes before I get caught.

(Real spies know the difference between stealth and sneaking)

Sign language-Employment has saved me since I know about 15 actual kindergarten signs for food, polite phrases and nouns.

Martial arts-Tai Chi. Took a class in college, watch out.

Self-defense-I can run, although not sprint.

Tantric breathing-That Tai Chi class alternated with yoga and we did learn to do a warming breath although I find that hyperventilating and passing out works just as well.

Now that you know I'm qualified to be running my own secret ops in the Murray Ghetto I'll tell you how it went. The reason for the stakeout was a misplaced phone charger. As I have a car charger I decided that it would be effective to charge my phone in my car. Unfortunately that required me to leave my keys in my car, the car turned on and the doors unlocked. To make sure no unsavory creature tried to open the car door and drive away I parked my car in front of my apt., ran up to my bedroom and sat in the dark staring out the window.

The staring grew old real quick and I turned on my computer. The blue light emanating from the screen was a little too bright and dizzying, even at its lowest setting. The only thing left to do was to grab my keys and spontaneously hit the panic button, especially as unsuspecting persons walked by.