It may appear that this lifestyle I’m living comes almost a bit too easy. Everything appears to be so simple. But, it’s not! What I can never convey to my non trespassing friends is all the fear and anxiety I feel. All the time! I have to watch every step and every move. My kingdom could come crashing down on me at any moment. It could be pulled from my grasp, in an instant, by grown-up men with badges and guns.
There is no room for complacency when all you see is trespassing and loitering forbidden by law. First we have to surmount this fence, before dealing with highly paid security guards that always seem to be lurking behind everything.
It’s Saturday evening. Jimmy and I have just finished watching the LA Kings lose to the Canadians at Montreal, in a surprisingly tough 1-0 game. Ken Dryden was too much in nets and a 3rd period goal by Yvan Cournoyer could not be overcome. Post game, we head to MGM, to catch a little buzz…
We’re still talking puck as we climb the train station’s metal fence. We make the usual noise, which would be tennis shoes kicking the fence, as we scale it, along with the barb wire pole that runs along side it. We add dialogue to all the kicking sounds, as Jimmy can’t get enough of saying Cournoyer…in French. Yes, we are being a bit too nonchalant, I suppose. Lesson learned.
Anyway, as our shoes touch down on the forbidden side, to start our journey. It’s pitch dark. Our eyes are still adjusting to the blindness, as we walk towards the first series of trains… which would be the Pullmans. As Jimmy is still muttering French hockey terms, I see a dark silhouette jump from the train car’s backdoor and hit the ground running… straight for us.
We have a twenty foot advantage as we slam on our brakes, then pivot around to retrace our steps. We run back over our freshly laid steps. The distance advantage we have, quickly disappears, since… we must climb this fence again, together, at the same time.
We are pros at this, but we drew a bad card: Security Guard Al Black is in hot pursuit. I look down from the top of the fence, as he reaches up, just I’m about to pivot and jump to freedom… He catches my hand, as I jump, cutting it severely along the top of this razor-thin, top edge that we must swing our body over, in order to enter. And in this case, to exit.
My heart pounds so hard, it’s about to leap out of my chest, as I realize I made it… sort of!
Al stands on a cross beam looking down at me. I’m tracking blood everywhere… it’s on top of the fence, it’s on my clothes, it’s even on the train tracks I’m standing on… Al mutters, “I’ll get you next time”… as I look up, all bloody and teary eyed. He looks down, all sweaty, with steam puffs, rising up off of his head, while breathing hard. This is a very intense moment… too close for comfort. The closest call I have yet to experience in this place.
I run to catch up with Jimmy, no longer speaking French, as we run home to get me some first aid. I quickly realize this is quite the long gash and pressure is not stopping this. Band aids can’t stop the flow as my my mom’s kitchen becomes an emergency room. Useless band aids litter the sink, I need some help. This is more than I can fix and luckily my parents are pulling up now from a nice relaxing dinner.
My greeting them in the driveway is a harbinger that I may need assistance. I confirm that by waving at them with a blood stained T-shirt. Whatever they have planned will have to wait. My dad’s 57 Chevy is now an ambulance. I spare the details, some things are better left unsaid, anyways. It’s not like this is my first trip to an emergency room. This evening ends with mom and me at the hospital, my ex- firefighter dad doesn’t seem to care, but mom always does. Probably why she always says” just be careful Donnie!” We conclude with six stiches at the nearby emergency clinic. Thank God Dad’s got good insurance at the Santa Monica Big Blue Bus!
Pictures show front and backside of the fence where the incident took place.
POV both sides.
This song and band are at the top of the charts as this story took place. Let’s just say it fits!
Blood, Sweat, and Tears and Spinning Wheel...
My mind can’t help doctor up this for the neighborhood kids, look at me, I’m all bandaged up. You can tell I’ve had my fun. “It’s dangerous over at MGM, you’re better off staying home and just watching TV.” I tell a small crowd of well wishers when I return home. Jimmy and Maureen want to actually see the wound, I display it proudly. Living my lunch pail is dangerous, but this scar is like an MGM tattoo. I’m proud of it. After all, I did get away!
Phantom of the Backlots 