I live by the small airport here in town. I love that airport. It’s where Southwest Airlines fly out of, it’s never too crowded, my bags have never been lost there, it smells like Cinnabon… I mean, the list can go on and on. Apparently, it is also where all the former presidents and current president are flying into. As I made my way to the gym, I noticed a lot of black cars along the way. They were parked sporadically, and each had tinted windows with 007 looking dudes in them. There were also a ton motorcycle cops by a fence, probably waiting for someone really important, whose name rhymes with “yo mama”.
As I arrived at my lil old gym, I realized there was no parking. I purposely go to the gym during the dead time, because I don’t like smelling other people sweat, and because there are too many people looking in the mirror and not enough people getting their workout on. The parking lot was not full of gym rats. Every single car in the parking lot was a cop car. It was a sea of cruisers. It actually scared me for a second because I thought something had happened. The officers were all having a huge meeting on the grass. Did I want to go mess around with them and have some fun? Heck yeah?! But, I did not want to get arrested, and I am pretty sure I have a warrant out for my arrest due to my name being Jose Chavez. So I thought twice about it.
Once I left the gym, the cops were gone, and there were about 10 cars in the parking lot. Big difference. I was still pumped. It was crazy cool to see so many cop cars in one parking lot without any sort of emergency going on. I did wonder who was manning the streets, but I am sure prostitutes and drug dealers kept it chill because the sun was still out.
On my way home is when I basically became a secret service agent. I was driving next to one of those black SUV’s. I could see the man driving had an earpiece in. So he was either doing the news from his car, or he could take me down with a swift chop to the neck. A lot of those cars were roaming the neighborhood. Luckily, I ended up next to him at the red light. So I rolled my window down, and gestured for him to do the same. He actually did, but only half way. So I said, “so… is someone important coming to town or something?” He looked at me and in a deep emotionless voice said, “really?!?” And he rolled his window up. There it is. I am an agent because I engaged in conversation with one. Don’t kill my joy… that is how you become an agent. Hopefully, when I show up at my house, my black SUV, suit, and ear piece will be there for me.