My phone rings while shitfaced off Martinis at my house. Picking it up without knowing the number was a mistake you shouldn't make whilst inebriated.
"Osama Bin Laden Reward Hotline" I yell into the phone.
"Ummmm..... May I speak to Mr. Jackson " the female voice asks.
"You got him. Whaddaya need, cupcake?" Still unaware of who I am talking to.
"Well, Mr. Jackson, this is <insert forgotten name here> from Vice President Cheney's office," she stated a little weary.
I sobered up quicker than a priest caught speeding with a little boy in the trunk.
"Uh, yeah?" Alright. Now I just sound like a big fuckin moron.
"Someone has refered you to us to be a motor cade driver for the VP's trip to NH. Would you be interested in helping us out?" She seems kinda nervous, as if it was even worth posing the question.
"Hell yeah! I mean, of course. Time and place?" I ask, trying to sound professional.
"Wiggin's Airport. You will be briefed by the advance team and again by the Secret Service." She hung up.
*Fast forward about three days*
I'm standing in the terminal of Wiggin's Airport. Secret Service abound. I recognized a couple from various deployments and training exercises I'd been to, which was kinda cool. Every one was looking around, and they were quizing me on the driving part of the job.
"No matter what, you must do this.." an older SS guy asks me.
"Follow the car ahead of you." I reply.
"Good. Here is a pin so people won't hassle you any more." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a little tin pin. It was orange with a big letter "A" in the middle. No idea what it meant, but I was happy to be left alone.
I walked out onto the tarmack to the rental car I was going to drive and found it had been opened up for the bomb squad to look through. All seemed to be going swimingly when another Secret Service Agent stopped me.
"Let me see your gun," he ordered.
"I think you have the wrong person. I'm only a driver on this mission" I say, believing that will be the end of it.
"Bullshit, let me have your gun," he stated again, seemingly agitated.
"I don't have one," I start to say, but before I get it out, I was bent over jail rape style over the open hood of my SUV. He frisked me, searching every where.
He let me back up and talked into his sleeve. Soon after, the guy who gave me the pin came running out of a hanger with a pissed off look on his face.
"He doesn't have a weapon," the first SS guy said, he know me from the last mission.
"Then why does he have an "A" badge?" Mr. Jump To Conclusions SS guy asked.
"Because that was the only pin I had left," SS Pin guy said.
"Well, then, nevermind," Jumpy SS guy said. Then he turned to me and offerd a gruff apology, acting if it was my fault I was wearing the pin.
"Does this mean I can go get my gun?" I inquire foolishly.
They both glare at me, visualy chastizing me for being a smartass.
"OK, OK. Point taken. No more jokes."
"Indeed." Then they both left, scurrying about to prepare for the VP.
Note to self: Do NOT make jokes about weapons to the Secret Service. It is not funny to them and they will ruin your shit if they have nothing better to do.
The rest of the event was boring until some guy phoned in a death threat. Everyone was running around and the SS was on high alert as we took an alternet route from the event site back to the airport.
When we safely arrived, I was granted a chance to meet the VP before he got back on Air Force 2. All the trouble was worth it, just to be able to say this.....
I am 5'8" and I am taller than the Vice President of the United States of America.
Weird.
"Osama Bin Laden Reward Hotline" I yell into the phone.
"Ummmm..... May I speak to Mr. Jackson " the female voice asks.
"You got him. Whaddaya need, cupcake?" Still unaware of who I am talking to.
"Well, Mr. Jackson, this is <insert forgotten name here> from Vice President Cheney's office," she stated a little weary.
I sobered up quicker than a priest caught speeding with a little boy in the trunk.
"Uh, yeah?" Alright. Now I just sound like a big fuckin moron.
"Someone has refered you to us to be a motor cade driver for the VP's trip to NH. Would you be interested in helping us out?" She seems kinda nervous, as if it was even worth posing the question.
"Hell yeah! I mean, of course. Time and place?" I ask, trying to sound professional.
"Wiggin's Airport. You will be briefed by the advance team and again by the Secret Service." She hung up.
*Fast forward about three days*
I'm standing in the terminal of Wiggin's Airport. Secret Service abound. I recognized a couple from various deployments and training exercises I'd been to, which was kinda cool. Every one was looking around, and they were quizing me on the driving part of the job.
"No matter what, you must do this.." an older SS guy asks me.
"Follow the car ahead of you." I reply.
"Good. Here is a pin so people won't hassle you any more." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a little tin pin. It was orange with a big letter "A" in the middle. No idea what it meant, but I was happy to be left alone.
I walked out onto the tarmack to the rental car I was going to drive and found it had been opened up for the bomb squad to look through. All seemed to be going swimingly when another Secret Service Agent stopped me.
"Let me see your gun," he ordered.
"I think you have the wrong person. I'm only a driver on this mission" I say, believing that will be the end of it.
"Bullshit, let me have your gun," he stated again, seemingly agitated.
"I don't have one," I start to say, but before I get it out, I was bent over jail rape style over the open hood of my SUV. He frisked me, searching every where.
He let me back up and talked into his sleeve. Soon after, the guy who gave me the pin came running out of a hanger with a pissed off look on his face.
"He doesn't have a weapon," the first SS guy said, he know me from the last mission.
"Then why does he have an "A" badge?" Mr. Jump To Conclusions SS guy asked.
"Because that was the only pin I had left," SS Pin guy said.
"Well, then, nevermind," Jumpy SS guy said. Then he turned to me and offerd a gruff apology, acting if it was my fault I was wearing the pin.
"Does this mean I can go get my gun?" I inquire foolishly.
They both glare at me, visualy chastizing me for being a smartass.
"OK, OK. Point taken. No more jokes."
"Indeed." Then they both left, scurrying about to prepare for the VP.
Note to self: Do NOT make jokes about weapons to the Secret Service. It is not funny to them and they will ruin your shit if they have nothing better to do.
The rest of the event was boring until some guy phoned in a death threat. Everyone was running around and the SS was on high alert as we took an alternet route from the event site back to the airport.
When we safely arrived, I was granted a chance to meet the VP before he got back on Air Force 2. All the trouble was worth it, just to be able to say this.....
I am 5'8" and I am taller than the Vice President of the United States of America.
Weird.
