Top Of My Class
Let me start by explaining that I realize standard protocol for surveillance does not include alerting one’s subject to one’s intent to surveil. I happened to be standing next to Man in line at a coffee shop, I was excited about completing my final assignment and becoming a certified private investigator, so I threw out the idea that Man could be my mark.
I explained that if he agreed and I was successful in spite of his knowing, it would surely put me at the top of my class. After careful consideration, Man agreed it might be fun, so I paid for his peppermint mocha and bid him farewell. “See you later…but you won’t see me,” I offered with a wink.
Quickly, I hailed a cab, circled the block a few times, then jumped out in the middle of a crowd moving slowly past the M&M Store. I saw Man toss his empty cup near the trash can at the edge of the park, look around a bit, then shrug his shoulders before heading north. I joined a Segway tour for an outrageous fee and surprisingly little paperwork, and kept a close eye on Man as the group and I pretended to listed to our instructions.
As we made our way to the north end of the park, Man received what appeared to be an important phone call and he headed west in a hurry.
I ditched the Segway and followed Man on a stolen skateboard to some kind of medical office building on West 111th Street. I used the rear entrance and hid behind a Highlights magazine as I made my way to the lobby. “I AM CRUSHING THIS,” I thought to myself. No sign of Man, however.
Patients came and went for 45 minutes. Still no Man.
Growing concerned, I decided to work my way back through the office and retrace my steps. Just as I opened the back door, I spotted Man getting into a supply truck. Luckily, I had just enough time to sneak into the back of the truck with the cargo and carefully shut the door before the truck pulled into the side alley and then made a right.
We made another right, a left, crossed some railroad tracks, I think, made several more turns, then drove for awhile east, I’m fairly certain. When I woke up, the truck had stopped and it was very quiet. Unsure of what to do, I decided to get out and do some general reconnaissance.
Unfortunately, before I could make my move, the cargo door slid open and Man stood there looking surprised and then angry. My cover was blown. I forced a smile and yelled, “Gotcha,” in hopes that Man was unfamiliar with standard procedure and would think this was my plan from the beginning. Man was not amused and, in my opinion, less understanding than was reasonable, considering I’d warned him something like this might happen.
The strange thing was, Man began to claim that he’d never met me. He also said he wouldn’t drink a peppermint mocha if it was “at your mom’s place on Christmas morning,” which was weird and hurtful. He was adamant that he would “never agree to let another dude follow him around all day.” I don’t know if Man was just messing with me or what, but he told me I better get the hell out of there, and he was VERY sure about that.
At any rate, your website says that as long as I report everything that happened, I can pay to retake the exam and “graduate” in the fall. Please find my check enclosed. Look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Kyle B.
Written for “Follow a Stranger”