Monday, October 25, 2010

Karate Like Mr. Miyagi

I talked to a friend of mine tonight.

But I can't tell you his name.

Reason being: he's a special agent. And if everyone knew he was, he might not be so special anymore. Instead, he might be dead. The bad people who read my blog might be inclined to go "get him."

If this is you, even if you do find out his name, I wouldn't recommend making such an attempt. He doesn't know karate like Mr. Miyagi, but he does carry a gun with him at all times - except when he goes to Dodger Stadium. I know this because he and I went to a baseball game over the summer.

Upon our arrival at the stadium, my friend flashed a special badge to a not so special security person. And that person immediately dropped everything she was doing to escort us to a special room in the stadium where he had to lock up his gun up for the duration of the game. (Evidently, some places in LA, not only have coat checks, but they have gun checks as well.)

The special room and the people in it were nice, but I was disappointed that the room wasn’t more like a box viewing area. There was no view of the field, except what you could see on the security cameras, and there were no free food or drinks. If they had my money, I would have wanted it back. But they only had his gun, and they did return it after the game.

But enough about baseball (unless we want to discuss the metaphor that parallels baseball and sexual activity - and, I'd rather not.)

As I was talking to my special agent friend on the phone, he wasn't as concerned about the bad people as he was about some girl who wanted to "get him" in a metaphorical baseball sort of way. He told me that he felt like he had some sort of stalker on his hands. I listen to him explain the whole situation and really, it was rather freakish – so much so that it could easily be worked into some movie plot. (And perhaps someday I'll do just that.)

(Still in works…)

So baseball… hmmmm…
I dated a baseball player once.

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