Wednesday, April 17, 2013
I was reading a friend's blog about sleeping in a tent on top of the roof of a Corolla (eh? is that possible?) and I just remembered that there was a time when I was indeed thin enough to do ridiculous things. At my lowest, I was 109 pounds (and looked horrible, I hasten to add, but I didn't know it at the time).
I went through a period when I wanted to be a spy. I was actually surrounded by people who I could have spied upon, but I was too naive to know who they were. I actually was FRIENDS with the daughter of a dictator who was being kept in a safe house by the US government. But she never told me who her father was and I never saw him because he didn't live with her. She was interesting. She had a horse. I had friends from multiple foreign countries, some of whom weren't even legal. I never thought to spy on them.
Instead, I chose to spy on a coffee shop that was owned by the family of my "boyfriend". (I was a freshman in high school.) I nonchalantly walked past security at the mall - and this was a VERY LARGE swanky mall near Washington, D.C. I won't say which one, but I will say again it was VERY LARGE. I let myself into the boiler room. I pulled the cover off the duct and crawled in. I pulled it back over me. Then I crawled through the system, which was noisy, blowy, and probably didn't deliver good air conditioning for at least half an hour because there was a 109 pound obstruction in it.
I sort of knew where I was going because I had studied the mall map. Security was a floor below the coffee shop. I don't remember how many stores I had to pass before I got to the coffee shop, but I know it was a long way. Fifteen? And some had multiple vents because they were large stores. I counted vents. I started coming up to listen when I thought I might be getting close. After awhile, I knew I had the right store, but there really wasn't much to hear. I mean, it was a coffee shop. A customer, the cash register. Silence. Foot steps. Some humming, That sort of thing. No boy friend's voice. No talking about me or anyone else interesting. But I hadn't really expected that. I didn't think they were going to. I just wanted experience as a spy. Next time I was going to hide behind a stairwell and listen in on the parole officer.
I crawled backwards down the vent and let myself back out. I smoothed my hair back down but my clothes were very dirty and rumply. Somehow a very dissheveled me passed by security again without any questioning. And out of the mall I went.