1. Select the 'Running Men.' There is a minimum of two, and no maximum, but the fewer the better.
2. Blindfold the 'Running Men' then drive them to some remote location off-campus.
3. Lay them down and drive away.
4. Wait five minutes, then go try and find them before they reach the dorms. (They take off their blindfolds once you drive away.)
It's pretty awesome, as you can see. Right up my alley, what with all the running and sneaking and such. So at 10pm tonight, all of the Ghetto Guys met up out front and we began. After a few rounds of "rock, paper, scissors," the four 'Running Men' were chosen. I, unfortunately, was not one of them.
So we loaded them all up and began convoying out to the location in a neighborhood about a mile from campus. There were two cars, a motorized scooter, two pedal bikes, and then me and my room mate on my motorcycle. We dropped the guys off and then left for 7-11 to wait.
After five minutes, things got interesting. Cruising through the neighborhood on the watch for people running into the shadows, we rounded a corner to see Nick, our RA, talking with some guy in the street. We rolled up and I killed the engine, wondering what was going on. The guy looked at us and said "And what the hell are you two doing?"
Wow. Nice to meet you too, Captain Douche-bag.
"We're, uhh, playing a game," I said, immediately getting a bad feeling.
"Yeah, well then tell your little buddy to come the hell out here before we call the cops," he said, gesturing down the street that one of the Running Men had apparently just sprinted down. I've never understood why people talk like you're challenging them in these type of situations. Like, we're clearly complying and talking like normal, intelligent people here... you don't have to mad dog us on every issue. Jeeze!
So it turns out that these guys' neighborhood had been tagged the week before, so every yahoo was looking to bring the vandals to justice. And here we came, driving up and down their streets looking into every shadowy crevice. It was a bad coincidence, I'll admit that. But what was really frustrating was these people's level of rational thinking.
Another neighbor came out and persisted to shine flashlight in our eyes whenever he spoke to us. Which was a lot, because the conversation kept going in circles:
"What are you guys doing out here?"
"Playing a game."
"Why are you running around?"
"It's like tag... we're trying to chase the other guys down."
"Yeah? Well, our neighborhood was vandalized last week. How do we know you're all not part of a gang?" NOTE: Nick is wearing sweatpants that read "CCU Cougars" and a tie-dye T-shirt, while I am wearing a sweater that says "North Lake Tahoe Fire Protection District," and then has the seal of the NLTFPD. Real gang material there! Jeeze!
"Well we're not a gang, we can assure you that. We're out playing a game, is all."
"Yeah? Well how are we supposed to know that?" NOTE: Does it matter if you know that? We weren't breaking any laws, after all. We're old enough to be out past curfew, we weren't being loud, and we were on the streets and sidewalks, a.k.a. public property. Jeeze!
And they would basically ask the same questions only worded differently, over and over and over. It was really getting frustrating. By now, the wife of one of these guys was out too, and so SHE began asking questions, much along the same lines. It was soooooo lame.
Finally, Scott pulls up in his car with three other Ghetto guys, and the dude with the flashlight gets all up in arms again, ranting and raving about gangs and "Make My Day" laws (which is where you can shoot trespassers on your property,) and all that jazz. I was getting so frustrated I just wanted to drive away.
Which is what I did after the wife looks at us in all seriousness and says, (this was after we told them we were from CCU) "You know, my husband and I are Christians, and this is really giving off a bad image."
No, lady, a bad image would be if we were running through your neighborhood cussing or throwing things or vandalizing or beating people up or whatever. What we're doing is actually called "good, clean fun." Maybe you should try having some sometime. Jeeze!
Now, granted they were justified in asking what was going on. It is their neighborhood, and we were driving around looking suspicious. But after we explained ourselves, were completely compliant, and offered reasonable, true explanations for everything that was going on, and even agreed that it was a bad idea to be playing in a neighborhood that had been recently tagged, they really had no business threatening to call the police or questioning our relationship with our Savior. It reminds me of how up tight our society is nowadays... kinda like the time Cole couldn't go trick-or-treating with us in the 7th grade because his mom was afraid there would be Anthrax in his candy.
So we all headed back to campus, our fun thoroughly killed, and talked for a while. I decided to come upstairs and write this. Now I'm going to bed.
-Daniel K
P.S. Don't do drugs. (I dunno, I've just always wanted to work that into a blog somehow.)
