The Room is On Fire
INS, FREEZE!
PUT EM DOWN!
You probably won't believe the story I'm about to tell you. That's fine, because I know what happened, Thomas knows what happened, and Jorge knows what happened. That's already too many people. And if the INS finds this post, then God help us all
. --------July 6 2004, 3:16 P.M-----------
I'm at work. My phone suddenly vibrates. I wait until after my shift is over to check my voicemail... Little did I know that what was on the other end of the phone wasn't my friend Jorge. It was my other friend, the one everyone knows. His name is destiny, and he has a great sense of timing. He likes to let you know that, you know, he's hollering. "I'm callin YOU fucker!" is one way for him to grab your attention. The voice message spills out of my phone. Time has slowed, I gain insight into how the events would unfold. The only thing I could tell at this point in time is that I would walk away from a remote location with about 15 police behind me, unscathed and, of course, free. It sounds like greatness. I shoot the J, agree to the plan, and bubble down the stairs to the parking lot and get in my car. Driving down I-95 I can't wait to get home and call Jorge to discuss the plans. The voice message goes as follows:
Calling Voice Mail... Ringing ... 1 ... You have 1 message. Tuesday, three six teen pee em: *Nigs, I got a call from Thomas! He says there's an insane asylum that's been abandoned since like, 19-fuckin-79 and shit, yo! Word to your mother, we should break out around 11 oclock and check that shit out, know what I'm sayin'? Peace* End of Message. Press 3 to discar.... END CALL
--------July 6 2004, 10:24 P.M-----------
The plan is to go to the abandoned insane asylum stir up a ruckus, scare the shit out of our friend Kyle, and then afterwards go to Miccosukee Tribe of Indians Casino to gamble. I learn that the "insane asylum" is actually more likely an abandoned Nike Missile Site. If you've never heard of a Nike missile, it's a small, short-range ballistic missile. It makes sense that there is a site there, because if you remember the Cuban Missile crisis, then you would realize that we were ready to flip a shit and own Cuba. The site is on Krome near 8th street, less than a mile from the Casino. As soon as we reach the site, it's pitch black, and we see several concrete barricades blocking our path. We can only walk from here... but it's so dark! And neither of us (Us consists of Jorge, Thomas, Navid, Kyle and I) brought a flashlight capable of providing sufficient light. We decide to go to the casino early and lose close to fifty bucks between the 5 of us. Maybe more than 50.
--------July 7 2004, 3:33 P.M-----------
Thomas, Jorge and I decide to "Fuck that shit" and go to the Nike Missile Site on our own, during the day, and armed. Well armed. Armed to the teeth, most would say. 3 pump action bb guns, full of bbs, and a box full of pellets for the more dangerous hostiles we might encounter. Allow me to explain why we felt the need to come armed. Navid told us horror stories about hobo's (the stabbin kind) with giant dobermans that are trained to attack, and renegade military men with M16s that shoot on sight. Our logic takes a 5 minute break during the time we planned the sortee, because we figured that our bb guns would be able to take down these threats. An M16 is arguably more powerful than the bb guns we were packing, but at least they have a full automatic firing mode, while we were lucky to get off a single shot, put a bb in the chamber, then pump it about 15 times in order to give it enough power to pierce the skin and cause minor to moderate amounts of pain and damage, mainly depending on where you landed the hit. Of course, we also decided to forget that Krome Detention Center, an active penitentiary, was nearby, if not too close nearby. Anywho, our one track minds made up, we drove down 8th street. We made the left at krome. We turned into the gravel and concrete front entrance of the abandoned Nike missile site. We no longer were uncertain that we had found our destination: This was definitely the place. Graffitti everywhere, garbage everywhere, it looks like maybe the Skullz lived there. We explore most of the land, it appears to be totally trashed. No sign of life anywhere, but tons of exploded military vehicles, ammunition casing, and possibly bodily fluids (said fluids found on walls, on edges of glass and on floors, and in condoms). Thoroughly enjoying our time spent in the hot sun, shooting at pieces of wood with our bb guns, we decide that to end the day. We walk back toward the car, and hear a distinct, loud, clear "HEY!" off to the distance, perhaps in the direction of the entrance. We dismiss the thought of it possibly being the authorities ready to own. And we were sooooooo wrong...
Check back tommorrow, or some other time, for part 2. I'm sooo tired. I'll finish up tommorrow, actually, I promise.