Technology – Tooo Much For Me

“Oh, no,” I thought, “the trunk lid’s partly open.

My wife, Beatrice, and I had driven in my new Honda, with its electronic gadgetry, to a Latino book fair in Alexandria, Virginia. It was in a school in a so-so area, a little west of the city’s famous Olde Towne. She had left her purse in the trunk. I had just picked up our income tax return, and it were there also.

We spent, perhaps, two hours in the building looking at books and hearing authors present them. There was also food as well as music and dance performances. We were happy when we went outside, but, “Oh, no.”

I hurried to the car and lifted the trunk lid with trepidation. Miraculously, Bea’s purse and our papers were intact. Not a thing was missing.

“Maybe we didn’t close it well,” I thought, but the same thing happened again, in a restaurant in Gaithersburg. As before, Bea’s purse was in the trunk and, as before, it was untouched. “I have to take this car to the dealer,” I said, but I procrastinated.

Not long thereafter, we took friends to Great Falls National Park and decided to go for a short walk. Bea left her purse on the floor in the front seat, but the doors would not lock. I clicked to close them, and they clicked to open again. Finally, it occurred to us: Bea’s key to the car was in her purse. You can’t lock that car with a key to it inside; It won’t let you.

Too much technology is too much for me. I can’t live without it, but I have to start learning from experience a whole lot faster.

No light at the end of the tunnel

No light at the end of the tunnel

He ran down the cylindrical tunnel, there were doors alternating each side every 20 yards or so. As he reached the doors, discovered that they were painted on the side of the tunnel, he could not find a way out. Miguel woke up sweating and with his left arm and shoulder dumb, from the posture of his sleep.

The attack on Dionisio the day before had been a wakeup call. There were too many unanswered questions with the incident. His subconscious was telling him that there were dangerous days ahead. He decided to confront Dionisio that same day. It was only six in the morning, he would get ready, have a cup of coffee and wait for Dionisio to wake up.

Miguel was pleasantly surprised when he entered the kitchen and found Dionisio there already having a cup of coffee. He had gotten out of bed, made coffee and was waiting for him, maybe. He appeared to be wearing his night clothes and had a resolute look in his face.

As Miguel made his presence obvious with a – “Good morning Dio, kind of early for you?”

Dionisio lifted his face and without even a smile said, — “Good morning (he still has not figured out how to address Miguel), I have something to tell you.”

As Miguel looked expectantly, Dio continued, — “The mugging is not a single case, I have been having problems with this gang for a while. Seems that this time they were ready to kill me.”

As Miguel got a cup of coffee and sat down, Dio added more.

“Some months ago, I was asked a favor by Vanesa, a person I knew. I didn’t know her well enough, so I didn’t know she was heavily involved with the MS13 gang. I knew her casually from high school, she was the kind of girl that was above my league, so I had admired her from a distance.”

“I was at the Roy Rogers and I had just noticed her and had waived, when two policemen, probably in their lunch break came in the door. She immediately approached me, sat at my table and while she slipped a small package into my backpack, deposited her food bag on the table. She started talking as if we had been together all along. I had to admire her skills, but at the same time should have realized the kind of deceit in her.”

“After the cops got their order and left to sit outside, she finished her food and waited for the cop cars to drive off. She told me that she owed me one and would put in a good word for me. She then retrieved the package from my backpack and with a radiant smile and a bat of her long eyelashes, she left.”

Dio then stopped and looked at Miguel expecting questions, when none came he continued, “About one week later, a guy that looked like he was the poster child for Central American gangs, approached while I was sitting on the sideline of a pickup soccer game at the Centerway Park. He told me that he had gotten really good recommendations about me, and that I could be made very happy in his outfit.”

“I must have looked at him as if he was speaking Greek to me, because he clarified his words. He told me that he was in the MS13, gang ‘the only and the original’ and that he could get me in the gang. He said Vanesa had spoken well about me and that I could be a person to be trusted.”

“He then told me that since I looked like a “good American boy”, the MS13 could use me for some jobs were stealth was necessary. Yea, I was surprised he used stealth, I had to look it up.”