nightops
all stories take place before I accepted Jesus as Lord. these stories are prefixed with "BC"
Back in the early 00s there was a BBS called totse/totse2. What totse stood for is irrelevant, but it was responsible for a lot of the trouble I should have gotten into as a teen. The site regularly explored topics such as:
- "Five finger discounts at Big Box retailers"
- "Rules for running from the cops"
- "Obtaining tannerite without getting a house visit"
- "Smashing the stack for fun and profit"
- "Lockpicking cylinder locks for free fizz"
- "Magnum opus on harvesting mushrooms"
- "Night Ops pt2 of 32"
As a teenager with way too much time on his hands and a slow internet connection, I was hooked on the last one (and some of the others). Night Ops were a collection of stories about teens or adults, typically under the age of 25, who would go out and explore places that society would deem "off limits". The whole thing was liberating and exciting to someone like me.
Writers would jump into gated communities at midnight with a duffel bag, head to the pool and nightswim. On their way out they'd pick the door on the soda machine and grab a couple of drinks for the walk/bike ride home. Others would get into offices at night, climb up fire escapes to see rooftops or check out construction sites. There were stories of being chased by security guards or playing spooky tricks on janitorial staff. The whole thing was thrilling to read and largely benign to the parties involved.
I remember being 12-13 or so and having permission to ride my bike until the streetlights came on. I would take my mom's cellphone so that I could call the landline in case anything went up. I would always say that I was out with friends, but honestly, I was alone. I lived in an apartment complex that was next to another apartment complex, that was next to another. . .apartment complex, that was next to a gated community. Never was I allowed to go outside our own complex.
I don't know what was so interesting about going to these other places. I knew that I didn't have any business there. The newer ones were nicer, and the older ones were sketchy. Eventually the streetlights would come on and I would call my parents to tell them that I was going to "play at X's place for a bit and ask to see if I could come home a bit later." My parents always said yes.
Over time I began to muster up the courage to actually pack a bag and stash it under my bed. I was convinced that as soon as it hit 12pm or so I would sneak out the front door and do one of these night ops. I had a black shirt for tying around my head (there were instructions on how to make head coverings and what to wear) I wanted so badly to see what was in that gated community. I laid in bed with my heart pounding, listening to every single creak in the house, mustering up the courage to step outside that door.
I think once or twice I was able to pull this off. I remember the pressure to put off my own conscience was insane. I felt such a strong pull to slip back into the house and go to bed, that it wasn't worth it and that no one would hear my screams if anything happened to me. I think I rode around to the edge of the complex and physically felt like I couldn't go any further. The air was too cold, it was so much darker than I remembered, and more than anything, I was scared out of my mind. I raced back, put my bike in the garage and fled back to my house.
Over the years I would become more daring. I remember constantly looking at buildings that were a couple stories tall and trying the topmost door in the stairwell to see if it was open. I did this on nearly every building I entered during high school. A lot were open, but many weren't. The views were amazing. I learned how to go around fire escape blocks and how to walk quietly from building to building because, surprise, people know when you're on the roof. The thrill was amazing and I loved it.
Time passed and I eventually started just checking doors. I mentally prepared excuses for anything, should I ever get caught. Truthfully though, I never was. This led to me doing even more brazen things. After a while I started to behave as though I belonged there.
- Teachers lounge? "Just dropping in for office hours"
- Employees only area in department stores? "I work here."
- Loading dock at Walmart "I'm with the cargo company"
- Utility room "Pull out my phone and act like a helpless IT guy on a field call".
One winter it rained so hard that our apartment roof began to leak and mold. The complex admins put us in another apartment across the street until they could re-roof the building. We returned the keys, but I kept the spare so I could visit it from time to time. Eventually someone moved into that apartment (I didn't know) and I used the key to check out what was up. To my amazement I walked into an apartment with someone else's stuff and no one home.
Every door was a land to somewhere I hadn't been to. If I felt that I absolutely had to get behind a door I'd try my hand at lockpicking. How I came across my first set in the early 2000's is another story for another day, but the thrill from lockpicking a door in a public building is not for the faint of heart.
I'm sure that as I dwell on this time of my life I'll remember more of these stories, but nonetheless these things occupied a lot of my life during this time.
/g