The Tourist
Moderator
Like most of you, I'm just a civilian guy, going to work and running errands. I stay in condition yellow, and I have a good selection of combat tools and pepper spray.
I also make foolish mistakes.
During the day, I pretty much wear the same biker trash I wore from 1965. Even while working, no one sems to care, to the point where I have given away my dress shirts and ties.
But at night, just padding around the house, I'll don old crappy black T-shirts, basketball shorts and for the sake of the light colored rugs, just wander around bare-footed.
Here's the catch. This week we are taking care of our younger niece while her parents are taking a holiday respite. (Yes, I child proofed the house.)
During the first night, we realized we were out of ice cream, and while my wife finished dinner, she handed me a few bucks and told me to shag some. The new Copps is less than a mile away, and since her Explorer was still in the driveway, I slipped on a pair of Teva sandals and began the bleary-eyed trip.
While I had the good sense to grab my wallet and drivers license, I took nothing else.
After I bought the ice cream, I walked back to the SUV, and realized that a group of 'banger wannabees where shucking and jiving at the far end of the lot. While no threat to me at that distance, you could hear the music blasting, and I opined a scenario.
What if they had decided to congregate at my end of the lot? Here I am, gray-headed suburban schlepp in sandals and shorts, loading an SUV. Yikes, I might as well have tattoo'ed "prey" across my forehead.
No knife, no gun.
I had gotten off the couch to run an errand. In so doing, I had focused on the task and not the attributes of the task, the time of day, my possible surroundings and my transportation.
I screwed up big time. And the only possible saving grace to my plight was the loud music that shook me out of condition white.
I think we should discuss and debate this all too common event.
(Yes, feel free to kick my azz, I earned it.)
I also make foolish mistakes.
During the day, I pretty much wear the same biker trash I wore from 1965. Even while working, no one sems to care, to the point where I have given away my dress shirts and ties.
But at night, just padding around the house, I'll don old crappy black T-shirts, basketball shorts and for the sake of the light colored rugs, just wander around bare-footed.
Here's the catch. This week we are taking care of our younger niece while her parents are taking a holiday respite. (Yes, I child proofed the house.)
During the first night, we realized we were out of ice cream, and while my wife finished dinner, she handed me a few bucks and told me to shag some. The new Copps is less than a mile away, and since her Explorer was still in the driveway, I slipped on a pair of Teva sandals and began the bleary-eyed trip.
While I had the good sense to grab my wallet and drivers license, I took nothing else.
After I bought the ice cream, I walked back to the SUV, and realized that a group of 'banger wannabees where shucking and jiving at the far end of the lot. While no threat to me at that distance, you could hear the music blasting, and I opined a scenario.
What if they had decided to congregate at my end of the lot? Here I am, gray-headed suburban schlepp in sandals and shorts, loading an SUV. Yikes, I might as well have tattoo'ed "prey" across my forehead.
No knife, no gun.
I had gotten off the couch to run an errand. In so doing, I had focused on the task and not the attributes of the task, the time of day, my possible surroundings and my transportation.
I screwed up big time. And the only possible saving grace to my plight was the loud music that shook me out of condition white.
I think we should discuss and debate this all too common event.
(Yes, feel free to kick my azz, I earned it.)