The car-jacking
My second job after leaving the military was as an Air Traffic Controller at Chicago O’Hare International Airport. I moved from California after stopping in Oklahoma City for a refresher training course in Air Traffic Control Tower operations, but more on that later.
Air Traffic is a strange career field full of shift work, stress relief and quests to escape responsibility. This is a story that portrays all three, forming a cocktail of hilarity.
“HEY STOP! STOP THE FUCKING CAR!” At that moment I had no idea what I was about to do, no idea how much fear those words could pump into somebody’s heart.
The bats swarming in and out of my head finally settled and I was able to break the tension, “Oh hey, um I thought you were somebody else,” I slowly pulled myself out of his window never breaking eye contact “Have a great day and drive safe,” I calmly said despite the thumping heart beats inside my chest, while winking and pretending to fire my phony left hand gun complete with a click sound and all. I didn’t dare look back as I walked away.
Free tip: Before thrusting half your body into your buddies car in an attempt to comically make their day; make sure you have the right car, the right friend, or at least a good exit strategy.
I slowly finished my walk into work; I stopped at the first security door and finally looked back, heart still pounding. Nobody was behind me. A sigh of relief swept through my body as I pondered the potential consequences of what just went down. I was pretty sure that kid was still sitting in his idling wagon regaining his composure. I don’t blame the him, it’s not every day that you accidentally unintentionally almost get car-jacked at one of the largest federal airports in the entire world.
I started thinking of what could’ve happened if he wasn’t a kid, if he wasn’t on the verge of staining his Subaru in bodily fluids, or if he didn’t just emit a faint feminine shrill. On my ride up the elevator to the thirteenth floor I wrote an apology letter in my head:
Dear un-expecting kid, I’m sorry I scared you, it wasn’t my intention to accidentally unintentionally almost car-jack you. I would like to thank you for not being a cop, a gang member, or a bad ass mother who wasn’t going to take crap from anybody. Thank you for not carrying a gun, thank you for not having quick reflexes and powerful fists. I really appreciate your lack of quick thinking and self defense skills, your trembling hands and your faint feminine shrill continue to give me hope that my idiocracy has a place in this world. Although our Eskimo kiss embrace was rhythmic and as unexpected as the car-jacking itself, neither of us takes great pleasure in the events that unfolded.
You should look on the bright side of this...let me give you some hope. Thanks to your uncanny ability to not urinate yourself out of fear you have two ways of telling the story of your “Airport Heroics;” you could use the story that I say happened or you could use the story you claim to be true. You see the upside is that neither of us are ever going to see other again.
Here’s your story: You were driving through the parking garage at O’Hare, like a boss, when some attractive fit guy with an amazing beard and a set of the most gorgeous blue eyes that you’ve ever seen yelled from a distance for you to stop your wagon. No scratch that...your MASERATI. You casually slowed the high-class luxury automobile to a gradual stop and waited for the dashing young man to meet you at your window. When he arrived he thrusted his hand in your face in the shape of a gun, while trembling in what you expect was fear; he said, “b-b-b-b-bra-brace-brace yourself fool, this is a car-jacking.” You resisted the urge to laugh at his pubescent voice cracking and instead the beast within you came out. I mean you were acting out of pure instinct, like a lion hunting for his prey. From here you’ll have to make the rest up yourself because it has to be believable, so you might even have to leave the part of you driving a Maserati out and put the wagon back in.
I truly am sorry for the whole occasion; I really wish you were my buddy Andrew because I’d have liked to see him that scared, the mocking would have been relentless. Don’t let that get you down because it’s your life and now it’s your story, tell it however you want; do me a favor and remind people of my beautiful blue eyes though
Sincerely, Jake
A text exchange with Andrew upon mentally delivering my note;
Me: You’re not working today, huh?
Andrew: No
Me: I might need an alibi later
Andrew: ???
Me: I almost accidentally car-jacked someone today
Andrew: What?
Me: It was a kid
Andrew: Where?
Me: ORD
Andrew: You need Jesus
My heart was finally settling down, the beats returning to a normal rate, a long sigh exited my body as I flopped down on one of the break room recliners.
“What’s up Jake,” asked a coworker, “you look like shit.” It was Sean Steele, one of the new bunch O’Hare hired recently who also opted to live in the city and not the suburbs like the older generation had.
I recounted the entire story to Sean, omitting the mental letter. Sean’s face lit up, his eyebrows raised, eyes wide open, his jaw had dropped and his breathing had stopped. As the story went on his face turned to a smile, then laughter.
“Oh my GOD!” shouted Sean. “We need a video!”
Half way through my shift a few of my coworkers had heard the story of how I tried to carjack Andrew in the parking garage earlier that day, thanks to Sean. Most of them were confused as to why Andrew would be here today when he wasn’t scheduled to be. People were coming up to me and asking for the story, soon it became obvious that this story had little to nothing to do with Andrew. It spread like a wildfire and it got me thinking that an internet video of the whole incident would be awesome, Sean was right.
I walked to the facilities security office on my break and tried to casually see if they knew anything of the event...They were unaware of the whole thing. Awesome! I tried to inquire how to get a video of what happens in the parking garage. This wasn’t easy; I had to be coy and cautious as not to raise any suspicions of my actions. I kept thinking how hilarious it would be to post this on a few very popular social networking sites that may or may not have anything to do with a book of faces or tubes personalized for you. They told me it was a very long process that had to be overseen by Airport security, and a full explanation of what I intended to do with the video had to be put in a formal request form. Our security team is separate from the airports, all of our guys are Chicago PD.
Hmmm I don’t know the legal ramifications of what had inspired earlier, nor was I eager to indict myself to the Chicago PD, so I thanked him for his time and made a quick exit.
Every time I see that cop now he laughs, points his left hand in the shape of a gun at me, makes a click sound, pretending to fire his phony gun, and says; “Have a great day, be safe.”
