by Corey Deitz
So, he pressed LifeLock into service to protect himself.
How ironic.
He actually opened a beer and celebrated his brilliant wit after coming up with that idea.
There were other details in his plan he had to consider, as well. Purchasing an airline ticket for a trip overseas had to be done carefully. Ford sensed it would be prudent to buy a round-trip ticket even though he did not intend to return. The purchase of a one-way ticket might alert the security software that scans purchases for anomalies. A one-way ticket might signal a red flag that hints of a bad actor or terrorist. So, he simply had to pay several thousand dollars upfront for his passage and it was best the money also be in cash.
Ironically, he would now have plenty of credit cards yet, he could not charge his fare because there was always the chance some lackey was paying attention and it might prematurely crash his fraudulent plan. He wanted to at least have a little time in Europe before his fun ended.
And yes, he was going overseas.
No, not because he really thought anything much would come from his initial chat with Dark Desires in Germany. Compared to everything else he was immersed in, a relationship with her looked like kind of a long shot. Sure, she seemed fun in a slightly dangerous way but, a girl like that could be a real wild card. Quite honestly, he didn’t need some crazy bitch fucking up everything he was working so hard to put together! She was a military brat. She was a Goth. Who’s Goth anymore? She was a little mouthy and forward. Just how could that be beneficial? Sure, she was attractive – if any selfie is to be believed anymore. But, would she be a drag on his momentum? How high maintenance would a chick like that be? Would she require so much attention she would draw attention to him and torpedo everything prematurely?
On the other hand, he was lonely as shit. He would be the first to admit that going through all this alone would probably lead to a slow descent into a swirling spiral of desperate depression. In one regard, it might make perfect sense since he was going to kill himself in the end. But, there’s something depressing about killing yourself when you’re depressed. Ford knew he would rather end it all with a big smile on his face or maybe even laughing until the very last moment.
He who has the last laugh and all that.
Yeah, at the end it would be so much better if he could charge his way into glory smiling broadly at the financial destruction his pursuits of pleasure wreaked upon the system. Given that, he realized it was essential he find the right companion who could sign onto that contract. At least someone who wouldn’t interfere with his plan to flip off the haughty one-percenters, elitist bankers and life’s biggest loan shark, the Grim Reaper.
Incidentally, people think it’s easy to plan your death but, it is not. The only people who plan their deaths even remotely well are the terminally ill and suicide bombers. Even then, there usually isn’t much of a plan.
A will, a note, a video…that’s about it.
Few people really want to spend that much time on the details because death is not a very fun subject. You have to be somewhat mentally ill to think death is a hoot. You know: like Islamic jihadists. They apparently do think it’s a hoot because before they blow themselves to bits they dress in their fancy Sunday go-to-meetin’ fatigues, make a video, create some ridiculous message about their mission, and thank God for the 72 virgins they’re about to be gifted.
Ford often wondered what it was like to wind up with 72 virgins after your dick’s been blown off. He imagined God was probably off to the side saying, “Oops. Didn’t I mention the dick being blown off thing? My bad!”
* * *
Procuring enough credit cards took about a month from start to finish. It was relatively easy and nothing went wrong.
Nobody noticed or questioned his Postal Inspector charade.
Every institution he requested a credit card from sent it without question.
Nobody missed their junk-mail credit offers.
Everyone went on with their lives as if nothing had happened. That should worry you. In an age when all you hear about is cyber security, identity theft, credit card fraud, and data hacking it should not be reassuring that Ford’s ability to contravene the system was so simple and yet, so highly effective. Ford did nothing fancy to perpetrate his crimes. There was no brainy hacking or sophisticated data breaches. He acquired his small share of “wealth” through simple deception and thievery.
There was no regret in his methodology or mission.
Ford continued having conversations with Dark Desires and within several weeks they were chatting everyday, sometimes twice-a-day. Despite his initial fears, she turned out to be kinder, gentler, and more affectionate than her brash first impression conveyed. She, in turn, had also taken a keen interest in Ford and delighted in his innocent honesty. She was used to men who were much crasser and often disappointing. Ford offered her a respite from the usual slug she found herself attracted to. It was by no means a perfect match but, they both had perfected a way to overlook the worst of each’s personality in favor of enjoying the best of what the other had to offer. Isn’t that what often times keeps a relationship glued together?
Finally, one day in conversation, Ford showed his hand.
Ford: I’m quitting my job.
Dark Desires: Really? I thought you enjoyed smelling alcohol on homeless men who stumble in at 2 a.m. to use your store’s bathroom.
Ford: I know. The place just screams “career growth.”
Dark Desires: So…what are you gonna’ do?
Ford: I’ve decided to travel.
Dark Desires: I’ve already done that. Like all my life. That’s what you do when you’re father is in the Air Force.
Ford: Well, I’ve never been anywhere except for Cleveland.
Dark Desires: I’ve been to Cleveland. That doesn’t count. As a matter of fact, you lose points for that.
Ford: Very funny….
Dark Desires: That’s right. Now you’ve never traveled and you’re at a deficit. You’ll have to travel just to break even again.
Ford: What if I said I was going overseas?
Dark Desires: Like where?
Ford: Like near you.
Dark Desires: Really? If you’re coming to Der Fatherland, you won’t like the pizza.
Ford: I’m not. I’m going to Paris.
Dark Desires: What!? That’s like my favorite city, ever! I love Paris! When?
Ford: I’m flying out next Wednesday…from Cleveland as a matter of fact.
Dark Desires: I’m jealous.
There was a pause in the conversation. Ford had a pit in his stomach because he knew the next thing he said would either make his day or make him pay, emotionally.
Ford: You could join me.
There was another pause in the conversation. Dark Desires understood her next response would be - if not a commitment to their relationship - at least a signal she might be willing to make one. It’s not as though she didn’t like Ford but, chatting with someone far away was safe. Actually meeting the same person for the first time was completely different. But, she was old enough to take care of herself and God knows nobody really gave much of a shit about her at home. Why was she even still living with her parents? She was 20.
Christ, how lame was that?
Or was it just laziness?
Apathy?
Whatever.
She lost patience with her own amateur psychoanalysis and began to type:
Dark Desires: Yes. Give me any reason to leave this place.
Ford: Wow. That doesn’t exactly sound like a ringing endorsement for me. How convenient for you.
Dark Desires: I didn’t mean it that way. That came out wrong. Sure. It would be fun to get together.
Then she felt she should qualify her feelings.
Dark Desires: Just so you know, I want to hang out and all. But, I just don’t want you to make it more than it is.
Ford: No expectations except for some fun.
Dark Desires: I’m all a
bout that.
Ford: YOLO!
Dark Desires: STFU! That’s so gay!
Ford: You can’t use “gay” that way.
Dark Desires: Sure you can. Haven’t you ever heard of Gay Paree?
Ford: Okay, I guess you can use it that way. LOL! So, I’m arriving sometime in the middle of the morning on the 10th. Then, I’m going to probably want to crash for a few hours. Let’s meet for dinner.
Dark Desires: Yeah. Where are you gonna’ be?
Ford: Hotel Regina. It’s across from the Louvre.
Dark Desires: 5 star? That’s going to be expensive. What did you do? Rob a bank?
Ford: Something like that. I’ll explain it later.
Dark Desires: Are you in trouble?
Ford: Not yet. No worries, mate.
Ford echoed the words of the Australian traveler who he encountered that night at the Kunkle Kash ‘n Karry. It was during that encounter he saw a glimpse of how life could be lived if one were to simply not succumb to the mediocre patterns it so often dictates. He was drawn to the Aussie’s quirky, frivolous, and incongruent tattoo, copied from random street art from a far away Parisian road.
Ford likened the Aussie’s choice to adorn his body with the Popeye Rose just as liberating as the artist who painted it on a public street. They were both graffiti of sorts, the tattoo on his arm and the mural on the building. Both instances were statements of life and the act of experiencing it. The ink and the painting both left an imprint onto the lives interacting with them. It sent Ford’s blood rushing and his mind wandering. His short interaction with the Australian traveler was the moment he recognized that he could be in complete control of his life. He just had to wrestle it back from the second-rate existence he had settled for.
Ford: Meet me for dinner. Go to a street called Rue Montorgueil. Walk down it until you find yourself at the corner of Montorgueil and Rue Marie Stuart. Right there, look up on the building. You’ll see some street art of Popeye and a blue rose. Meet me under the Popeye Rose.
Dark Desires: Under the Popeye Rose…
Ford: Yes. 5 p.m.
Dark Desires: Alright. It’s a date.
Ford: Yeah, okay. A date. I’ll see you then.
Dark Desires: I’ll see you next week.
Ford: Don’t back out!
Dark Desires: Don’t be late…
Ford: Goodnight.
Chapter 7
“…on behalf of the pilot and crew, welcome to Paris! Enjoy your stay.”
As soon as the flight attendant’s announcement ended, the captain switched the seatbelt light off. Immediately, scores of fingers reached for mobile phones and switched from Airplane Mode to normal. Some made calls to loved ones or family to confirm their landing. Others texted a waiting party to let them know their status. There are fewer things in the world which more affirmatively confirm you are cared about than a kind voice or text greeting you upon landing.
Ford decided to join in the finger frenzy and texted Dark Desires.
“I’m here. Still meeting me?”
A pushy woman in a hurry accidentally launched a kneecap into his arm and Ford’s phone directly to the jet’s thinly-carpeted floor.
“Sorry,” she apologized, out of habit - not sincerity.
“No problem,” Ford replied.
As he reached down to pick up his device, a reply to his text lit the screen.
“Great! See you tonight,” it read.
Ford smiled. She was actually going through with it. He really wasn’t sure up until this moment but, the confirmation of their friendship – and the possibility of more – exhilarated him. He was tempted to call her but, decided against it. He certainly didn’t care about the roaming charges – which if you’ve ever traveled overseas are substantial. Why should he? From now on he was on life’s Yellow Brick Road and it was painted with Gold cards. Roaming charges, expensive meals, the best rooms, top entertainment – he would have it all with no consequence.
No, he decided not to call because sometimes less is more. The “old” Ford was always second-guessing himself. The “old” Ford was shy and unconfident. The “old” Ford was a loser.
This was the “new” Ford.
Secure.
Adventurous.
Self-assured.
A man of some means.
Ford stood up from his seat, grabbed his carry bag from the overhead compartment, and graciously waited for an opening in the line to deplane. At the appropriate moment, he stepped into the line of people and continued off the jet.
As soon as they are in the terminal, some travelers almost begin a sprint to get to customs and immigration in the hopes of getting through the process quickly. These are the same kind of people who speed past you on the road and wind up stopped right next to you at a red light. No matter how fast you try to get to this portal of paperwork, what most forget is there is always another flight that came in earlier. Immigration and Customs is almost always busy. So, should you take an overseas flight in the future the best thing to do when you land is get off the plane, stretch your legs, hit the bathroom, and enjoy the walk.
At least he was no longer sitting in a cramped seat - and Ford was glad about that. He flew coach because he had to pay in cash. Besides, he shunned First Class to stay a little under the radar. He felt it served no purpose to prematurely call attention to himself. But, that was the last time he would ever skimp on his luxuries.
Charles DeGaulle Airport is the largest, most active air hub in France. As such, it attracts a high degree of confusion on behalf of travelers - and theft on behalf of miscreants. If you decide to leave the airport using either of the two Paris Metro trains you will be faced with pickpockets who are quite skillful at targeting suckers, especially those who keep wallets in their back pockets. There are also thieves who specialize in purse and bag snatching. Sometimes they work in pairs. A person will board the Metro and just as the doors are closing one guy will hold the doors, the other will swipe a purse. Then, the first thief will let the doors shut and the train is off in seconds. It’s a well-choreographed dance which should keep any traveler on their toes.
Ford had done his homework and Googled enough travel tips to inoculate himself from many novice mistakes. He certainly did not want to be targeted by a thief upon landing in Paris.
It was an amusing irony, considering the basis for his whole trip.
Other options for leaving the airport are typical: ground transportation like bus or cab. Ford followed the signs for taxis. He was grateful the word is the same in both English and French which made his way easy to find. Ford knew to be careful in the baggage claim area and street side where beggar children openly ask for money and the pickpockets continue to work the distracted tourists. A lot of these scammers are young females and they sometimes work in small groups. Their forte is distracting you with conversation and compliments. It’s classic misdirection.
Though Ford skimped on the plane ride, when he exited Terminal 2 he walked directly to the closest taxi stand and waved at the next driver.
“Bonjour,” said the driver.
“Bonjour,” replied Ford, a little self-conscious of his pronunciation.
He handed the driver a small piece of paper with the hotel name and street address. One of the tips he read stated it was the most expedient way to communicate with a driver. The Frenchman took the note, read it, smiled, and nodded his head. He then reached for Ford’s luggage, picked it up, and secured it in the boot of the vehicle. The driver opened the door and Ford slid into the back seat.
As it shut, he smiled.
He was certain this would be the beginning of a great day.
The cab speeded onto the E15 highway and headed southwest to the city. In a few miles the road became the A1 and then the N1. Ford sat, relaxed, in the back seat absorbing the sounds of late morning and acclimating himself to the new landscape. He suddenly realized how tired he was. Overseas flights generally leave late at night from the states then drop you off in a
time zone that shocks your body. Even after your body has jolted you with extra adrenaline, at some point you just hit the wall. He slumped back in the seat and fought to keep his eyes open.
Once in the city proper, the streets became increasingly narrower and Paris came into close view. The driver seemed to finesse the vehicle as if he was surfing a perfect wave of scooters, pedestrians, stop lights, and bicycles.
In good time, the cab reached Hotel Regina and came to a stop. The driver quickly popped out of his seat and opened the passenger door. Ford put his left leg out and slid across the seat and out of the taxi. His eyes immediately set upon a gilded statue of Joan of Arc on horseback, which sits in the square directly in front of the Hotel Regina.
He instinctively pulled out his phone and took a photo. Then, he wondered – for a moment – if there was any point to taking pictures at all. He did not expect to be viewing them years from now.
If all went as planned, there would be no “years from now.”
Still, he rationalized; there is a certain joy in the experience of capturing a moment that is special. If nothing else, he would share it with Dark Desires later that evening after they met under the Popeye Rose.
Almost immediately, an impeccably dressed bellman came to Ford’s aid and took the luggage the cabbie had pulled out of the boot.
“Thank you. Merci,” said Ford, handing the driver his fare plus an extra twenty dollars. The cabbie had no problem accepting the U.S. currency. Ford had committed prior to his trip to the proposition of spreading the wealth around. He promised himself he would tip well anyone who deserved a decent gratuity. It was fun to feel a little like Robin Hood.
