"Go," I said, commanding them to be on their way.
"Hey look man, don't you worry 'bout us. We ain't about to fuck up the biggest pay check of our lives."
"Did I say I was worried?" I asked the shorter of the two guys.
"Well no but I was just sayin'-"
"Yeah, and I'm 'just sayin' go, so get the hell out!"
And with a brief moment of sternness, they all left, all four of them, more than willing to complete their mission. As they were on their way out the door I reminded them quickly I would be watching, to make sure everything goes along fine.
I had some time before the excitement commenced, so I went downstairs to my living room and set the television to the local channel 7 news. "Your most trusted news source in the St. Paul, Minneapolis Area!" Trusted my ass, these guys couldn't even speak for half a freakin' sentence without stumbling and realizing how horribly written their story was. That goes double for you Chris Shlattenberg, you smug asshole.
I had sometime before I watched my masterpiece unfold on live television, so I moved in to the kitchen to make some nice tea to calm my nerves. I'm usually a really big fan of jasmine with flower petals, but this time I think I'll be living life on the edge with some "citrus sunrise," a nice Oolong tea that has a slight pick-me-up built in, yet still manages to keep the nerves calm.
As I began to heat the water for steeping, my phone started to ring. I picked it up. "Hey, Boss-man. We're about 10 minutes away from the bank right now, just thought I'd update you."
"Alright, how about next time you call when I order you to," I said with a subtle hint of annoyance in my voice, as I end the call and toss my phone on the couch from the kitchen counter.
Making tea has always been a hobby of mine. I enjoy the order, trying to get the perfect combination of water, temperature, time, and leaf. It makes for a relaxing activity that really makes me feel balanced by the end of the process. After letting it steep for 3 minutes, I poured my tea in a mug and walked it over to my living room couch with me, attempting to take a careful sip along the way.
After some relaxing and reflection, my phone rang again. I picked it up. "Hey, Boss-man. Me again. We're outside the bank right now. Are you ready?"
"Go for it," I said, giving the command to put this entire three-month process of careful planning in to play. I set the phone beside me waiting for the next update call, hoping I'd hear some good news from the group soon. I had my eyes glued to the television in the meantime, slowly sipping my tea, hoping to find something, any little bit of information that could be useful to me.
Seven minutes pass and suddenly channel 7 decided to switch stories to something important enough to earn the title of "breaking news." And whose smug grin is there on the other side of the story? None other than Chris Shlattenberg. "We interrupt this broadcast to bring you some breaking news out of the southwest portion of our viewing area. As you can see by our helicopter view, police are in high speed pursuit of a black Toyota Camry. The car is thought to be driven by the suspects of a recent bank robbery in the southwest portion of the city. Once again this is live, and we will try and get this information to you as it develops."
I quickly scrambled for the phone and called the gang. "What the fuck happened?!" I shouted before they could even make a noise.
"Alright, so basically we screwed up, big time. We forgot to check for cops around the block, and long story short, they were on our tails about 20 seconds after driving away from the bank."
"How do you fuck this up so horribly?!" I shouted in to the receiver. "I laid all the freakin' steps out for you! Jesus Christ, do I have to hold your fucking hand while you point the gun at the teller too?!"
I threw my phone at the wall in anger, putting a nice whole in the cheap drywall. There was nothing I could do now, but watch, wait, and hope they are able to shake the fuzz and pick me up in the process.
I continued to have my eyes glued to the screen, zoning out Shlattenberg's annoying, self-righteous tone. The car continued at high speeds, narrowly avoiding other cars at the intersections it had no business avoiding. Sheer luck is all I can say to describe what I was watching. They eventually made their way on to the freeway, making their way towards me?!?! "NO YOU DUMBASSES!" I shouted at the screen. "DON'T DRIVE TOWARDS ME!"
Nevertheless, they kept speeding ahead, slithering their way between the ugly looking cars of the southern Minneapolis area.
Then the car began to wobble as it hit a massive pothole in the road and pitched forward. The Camry flipped on to its side, windows shattering on impact as it slid down the Minnesota freeway. I just stood there staring in disbelief. Cars began slowing down and pulling over, as the fuzz came speeding up from behind, creating a perimeter around the car in the process. Two officers exited their vehicles and made their way towards the demolished car, guns drawn. Eventually, they began removing people from the wreck. A wave of fear washed over me as I saw them being dragged out of the car in their trench coats and ski masks, realizing that it was only a matter of time before I was in the same position they were. Eventually they got the four members of the gang standing, blood visibly oozing from their saturated ski masks.
I couldn't believe it. Everything that could have gone wrong went wrong, and in the process, they will have brought me down with it. My mind scrambled as I ran around my tiny house, looking for everything and anything to pack, trying to leave before the police inevitably came knocking for my arrest. But in the chaos of packing for Ecuador, my ears refocused on Chris Shlattenberg's voice emanating from the T.V.
"Here's what we know so far: Two men and two women walked into a bank on the southwest side in dark clothing, including trench coats, ski masks, and sun glasses. They eventually pulled guns out and ordered everyone to the floor. They then took everything from the registers, and listen to this, they even stole jewelry from some of the customers. Once again, the suspects are now in custody after a high-speed police chase ended in a horrible car accident for the suspects. We're still working on learning the identities and conditions of the suspects, but one witness in the bank said the taller of the two males shouted, "If you want your money back, then you better chase me," before shooting two more times at the ceiling and running out to hop in the getaway car. I think it's safe to say those involved will be getting their money back shortly, and pro tip to you aspiring bank robbers out there, DON'T dare the police to come after you. It only makes for a tricky getaway."
"YOU MOTHERFUCKER I TOLD YOU NOT TO GET COCKY!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, and with a few quick windups of the fist, I quickly broke through the screen of the T.V., leaving my knuckles a bloody mess. I didn't have time to think about the pain resonating from my bloody fists, so I began to pack my car for the drive to the airport, then it hit me like a wave of stupidity and realization. I couldn't take my own car 'cause the police definitely have my license plate info right now, and it probably didn't take much to make those idiots squeal and spill every bit of info about me. My solution? I quickly opened up the app store, downloaded Ãœber, and, well, requested an Ãœber. About ten seconds later, someone picked up my job and said they'd be here in ten minutes.
Cool, alright, I can still get away, I just have to relax. That gave me just enough time to pack the essentials of my tea equipment before leaving the country. And sure enough ten minutes later, a car was waiting for me outside of my house. I quickly picked up as many bags as my long arms could hold, carrying them outside as the man got out of the driver's side to greet me and ask if I needed assistance. "No thanks," I told him politely, "I've just got one more box of things inside."
I quickly ran back inside to grab my tea equipment when it hit me. I almost forgot my fake passport! How could I be so stupid! I put the tea box back down and made my way upstairs to find the fake sitting, calling almost from the bedside stand. "Don't forget me," it said. "I'm the only way you'll be getting out of this country you dingus." Shut up passport! I hate when you say things like that to me.
And in less than thirty seconds I was out at the car again, cramming my tea equipment in the undersized backseat. I then hopped in the front seat with Jamal and we were on our way to the airport. Jamal tried to break up the awkward silence of the twenty-five-minute ride with conversation starters but I wasn't biting.
"Oh no sir, I have to apologize, it looks as though we're going to be late."
"Why's that? I'm not paying you to be late," I said, a little more aggressively than I should have.
"Once again, my deepest apologies sir, but we are coming up on this big crash in the middle of the freeway up ahead."
Oh, oh no. I'm convinced that there could not have been a worse route to be taken on the way to the airport. As we began to pass the wreck, I tried to gain a peak of the crash between the emergency responders and the vehicles, but then a police officer made direct eye contact with me. In a panic I quickly ducked as low as I could so I could not be seen.
"Sir, sir! Are you alright?" asked Jamal.
"Oh, uhm, yes I'm quite alright," I stammered, trying to come up with some bullshit for my erratic behavior. "I, uh, just dropped my contact. There it is!" I slowly sat up again to find the crash in the rearview, thank god. I might actually make it out alive.
Sure enough, we pulled up to the check-in desk for United flights at the airport only five minutes late, and Jamal even helped me load all of my stuff on to one of those trollies! I thanked him, payed him, tipped him, and sent him on his way.
I quickly made my way inside with all of my stuff to the check in desk where the only lady not smiling offered to check me in.
"Hello welcome to United airlines how can I help you?" she said in the most monotone voice in the history of ever.
"Well this is the check in desk," I replied snarkily. "So I'd like to check in."
After some more bickering back and forth she finally got me checked in with my fake passport. "I'm guessing you're going to want to tag all of these bags, don't you?"
"Uh yes ma'am, that would be great."
After five minutes of painfully watching her work as slowly as she could, she finally tuned to me and said, "Alright sir it will cost you $275 to check these bags today."
"What? Are you kidding me? That's like the cost of half my ticket?!"
I was clearly getting annoyed and annoying her in the process, so she simply said, "Sir if you start to make a fuss I will call security, otherwise you can pay the $275 and be on your way. Which is it going to be?"
"Fine," I said, reluctantly handing over the cash. After that horrible encounter I just had to make it through security, which was simple enough. It's not like the TSA does anything anyways. I mean they actually have an Instagram where they post all of the stupid shit they confiscate for chrissakes! There's no way I was going to get caught!
"Excuse me sir, I need you to step aside for a random security check."
Fuck. I begrudgingly complied and followed the man to the side, where he put on a glove and touched every part of my body, even the places my exes wouldn't go. After being felt up by the TSA I made my way to the gate and got in line to board the aircraft. Just as I got in line I heard dramatic music go off on the T.V. behind me.
"We interrupt this broadcast for more breaking news on the developing story of an attempted bank heist. We now have the name and picture of the head of this heist who managed to stay behind the scenes and puppeteer the entire show. His name is Huey Muller, and here's his photo to go along with it. Police are saying if you see him, say something, but do not approach as he is considered armed and extremely dangerous. Thank you for letting us interrupt, we now return to your original programming." Fuck you Chris.
I began to feel the weight of everyone's' eyes looking at me, making me freak out in my head as I made my way closer to the plane. Eventually I finally made the long journey to the front of the of the line, where the nice lady kindly asked for my ticket and passport. I willingly handed them over.
"Isn't that funny," she said. "You look JUST like the guy they just showed on the T.V!"
"Ah, yes. Small world we live in, isn't it?" I responded.
"Hah, you are quite the joker! Alright sir, you have a great flight!" she said, scanning my ticket and handing back my passport. I thanked her and quickly made my way to my seat, passing the judgmental glares from each passenger as they briefly looked up over their copy of "Sky Mall Magazine." I began preparing myself for the best plane ride of my life. Nothing could taste better than the sweet, sweet freedom of Ecuador.