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The Weekly Theoretical: Coincidence or Guided Missile?

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Hello again all! I apologize for my absence in recent writings, but business is busy. Today’s post is more of a story than a conceptualized idea, although it does still contain some thought provoking goodness. To get your mind roasting for the unusual story to come I’d like to marinate you with some questions. Do you believe in fate? Are you one to think that things are ‘meant to be’ or ‘planned’? Or, are you just a person of pure coincidence.

Well I tend to shy away from the pre-fated notion of life. I feel that it takes away from the mystery of life, believing that everything is pre-determined and left without choice. Regardless, I can’t help but notice the incidents that are undeniably more than just coincidence. Those moments that seem to connect the dots along our paths of existence. Tonight I encountered such a moment of superior coincidence; a moment that has pushed me further along the path, straying away from random tangibility. I’m curious how many reading this have seen the latest on the 11 o’clock news or read this morning’s paper. The story begins with me and my very good friend Joe. We have had our share of spectacular adventures that tickle our sense of mystery only to be later solved by random sources, leaving us even more shocked to the mind-blazing connections that uninformative events bring (coincidence between events).

So as not to bore you, I’ll cut to the chase. We planned to move into our new two bedroom apartment tonight. Everything has been finalized, save the lease signatures and cash dropping. Suspicion falls through the neurological gaps quickly as I am picked up and informed that our broker hasn’t answered Joe’s calls for some time. This is peculiar of him, due to his normally immediately responsive nature. Through the mix of anticipation and mild frustration, we ordered some grub while noticing the local surroundings.

Still no call back!

No joke, what the fcuk. So I call and leave a persistent voicemail full of curiosity, concern, and worries. To calm the nerves, Joe and I decide to comb the neighborhood to see this new place we’ll be calling home. 235st in Riverdale is a quiet, seemingly peaceful neighborhood by the water. The water, ahh, we decide to go there.

On the way toward the river a car very similar to the vehicle Joe drives backs up down a two-way street due to a big rig that’s pulling forward, consuming a vast portion of the narrow passageway. I aptly notice the driver and passenger wearing what look like Army helmets. Weird I think to myself, but make little mention of it. We then approach this dark path leading to what seems like the Hudson River when my over-analytical sense receptors detect a strange vehicle to the left. This heavily armored, SUV core vehicle seems to be off, but has a bit of bustle going on within. Quickly, I notice to the right another big rig with its lights on parked directly across from the Mad Max-esque SUV. Somewhat fearful Joe and I had stepped into a Thunderdome battle; we innocently creep past the massive 18 wheeler toward the grim entrance to a park, which at this point seems more like the merry-go-round at a carnival after hours next to the fun house of peculiarly positioned automobiles. This time my mouth opens after noticing the driver and passenger of this Semi are also wearing military like helmets.

Joe’s only response is, “What the fcuk man?”

We hastily move on through the forest where the wild things roam, still intending on finding salvation near the aquatic flux. Glad the shady geared men stayed in their trucks of mass destruction, we now only worried about the appearance of homemade caves constructed by local wildlife; oh and our lives!

A road appears and we feel a moment of safety and the transition of sanity flowing back to our temples. But weren’t we fooled. Our heads observe in either direction noticing the lack of anything, but a small, gated structure with no windows. Now this might not seem odd, but NYC isn’t full of empty spaces. My curiosity drives me over to the giant outhouse and quickly away as I sense clamor arising from the little safehouse. The decision is unanimous as Joe and I feel it’s best to go back the way we came, even though we’d have to face the Maximum Overdrive stars.

We quickly climb the dark hill and approach the large rig. Passing the stronghold stare of the helmeted men and the bustle from the iron truck, we steadily walk up the sidewalk and begin with states of relief. All the oddities had helped forget about the lack of communication with our broker.

Just as we realized we forgot about him, buzz buzz motha what!? Yeah, it’s Chris calling. The intent was to sign the lease, write the checks, and move in within the night. Unfortunately, Chris informed us that the lease wasn’t ready, but it will be ready manana, and we couldn’t move in yet. If none of this seems weird yet, get this:

We end the conversation with Chris, fairly disappointed, but relieved we could move in the following day.

As we hang up, that crazy heavily armored truck comes flying by, stock full of armored dudes rocking sub-automatic machine guns, and whips a left right around us turning onto Independence St.

This truck is immediately followed by a black, unmarked SUV, a stuffed Econoline van, and two more black SUVs.

Lastly, that big rig follows trailing the line of speeding trucks.

This, to two unknowing bystanders, is completely weird and seems like some crazy shit from a well-funded, poorly made action movie.

If you heard the news you probably have some clue what I’m talking about. If not, let me fill you in.

Four men arrested for plotting to blow up several Jewish temples in and around Riverdale as well as conspiring to attack military aircraft. Luckily for the people of Riverdale, the FBI had been working undercover and sold them inert weaponry. That’s crazy man; that’s really bugged out. Joe and I were in the middle of a freakin’ terrorist bust. I honestly was ignorant enough to think shit like that didn’t happen except for the spectacles of Bond flicks.

This caused me to think and in turn, obviously write this post. So if you’re still with me here, think about this. What caused the complication that didn’t allow us to move in to our new apt.? Why was our broker unable to call us, going completely against his character, until right before the fleet swooped by us? What were the chances that we would be hoping to move into our first apartment the same day, but were diverted by anticipation and delay? What would have happened if we did move in to our new establishment and the FBI didn’t flank these fools? Would we have been erupted by the unspeakable horrors of terrorism?

I find it amazing how these seemingly random events are always, and I mean always, linked, even if they aren’t explained immediately. I promise you this though, when you do find out; it makes you believe. In what I cannot say, but you believe. Only in theory my friends, only in theory!

Much Love, glad to be alive!!!

2 thoughts on “The Weekly Theoretical: Coincidence or Guided Missile?”

  1. MAW says:

    Love it!

  2. MAW says:

    Love it!

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