CSI – Traverse City

the perp – Adam Thomas (that’s me)
the accomplice/possible stool pigeon – the maintenance dude- the ONE  who will remain nameless
the crime scene – local football field (NOTE – location withheld to protect the innocent)
the crime – trespassing
the plea – I take the Fifth Amendment
the rap sheet –

In my constant quest for physical challenges, … . STOP.  Who am I kidding?  A quest is noble.  I was just bored.  … With my current physical routine, that is. Fitness is something to be proud of though, right? Hmm … . Semantics aside, I was in a rut.   So, it truly was boredom that motivated me,  Adam Thomas, to turn to a life of … crime.

I stumbled upon the local football field by chance. Running stairs/bleaches is the quintessential cardio workout – a guaranteed buns of steel opportunity.  My timing was perfect, too.  The gate was open. I even asked the maintenance dude for permission. He was more than accommodating.  “If the gate is locked,” he said.   “Some have been known to find alternative ways of entering.”  He paused.  “But you didn’t hear that from me.

Little did I realize what his words would foreshadow.

The first time committing a crime is the hardest. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.  And so, it was a Tuesday after school started My Life changed.  The gate was locked.  Chains barred my access for the first time.  I didn’t know what to do.  As I looked around, the words ‘alternative ways of entering’ echoed inside my head. Unfortunately, there were no shaded areas to facilitate discretion.  There was a Saving Grace.   No  NO TRESPASSING signs were anywhere to be found.

I considered the alternatives – indoor workout. The decision was simple.  But then it always is when tempted with wrong doing. Without hesitation, I passed my water gallon under the fence and hopped over the top. It was easier than anticipated.  My Life of criminal misconduct had began.

Weeks of finding ‘alternative ways of entering‘ continued.  I was now a repeat offender.  Somehow, I knew my time would be limited.  And, it was.

One day, I rounded my third set and saw THE car parked on the street. Yeah, THE POLICE had arrived.  Not only that, he waited.  Fuck.  They were on to me.  Maybe my accomplice squealed.  Bastard. Options needed to be weighed.  I walked it off, eyeing potential escape routes.  I found one.  The fence was low on the other side of the field. Then, I could approach my car from behind after I circled the adjacent block.  If asked, I’d play dumb. I do that well.  I work retail.  Hell, I’d even take the Fifth Amendment.  I’s got this.

Before I could proceed, a utility truck parked across the way, blocking my escape route.  “Now what?” I cursed, continuing to workout.  I needed to focus on what minimal scenarios remained.

Within moments, things changed yet again.

The police car sped off, sirens flashing.  The maintenance dude, who will remain nameless, moved to a different location.

I acted fast.  I walked briskly to the main gate, slid my water bottle under the fence, and followed in a like manner. Hopping the fence would be too visible an offense.  Few have the athletic prowess to complete such an obstacle.  I did, though.

Within seconds, I was behind the wheel of my car.  On the run once again.  As I drove off, I considered less fortunate outcomes.  I pondered the repercussions of my actions.  I grinned at the irony.

the punishment – life sentence of customer service

I AM wanted

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