Fatherly Instincts

We're sitting in a hotel in Orlando resting our bodies from a nice vacation and a long drive today. I had some time on the drive to reflect on many things, and I'll be sure to post on the importance of family - something that we came to appreciate very much this week.

But first I wanted to convey a brief account of raw instinct.

Road trips along major interstates such as I-10 inevitably result in frequent stops at rest areas and roadside eateries. I can't count the number of blue signs that had McDonald's, Wendy's, Waffle House, and Bill's Buffeteria that we passed over the 1,200 miles we drove. So when we see one for something fresh, made-to-order like Subway, we jump at the chance to pull over for a meal.

As we approached Tallahassee, we encountered one such sign and decided to make a pit stop. Baby was squirming (a clear precursor to freaking out and wanting to eat) and Dad had to pee. We were also ducking a major thunderstorm that was passing over the road ahead.

I entered the Subway franchise, and was immediately greeted by a man in uniform - one of Tallahassee's finest.

"So, how far you goin'?" he asked. He was a cross between Barney Fife and Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man. I think he wanted to demonstrate his investigative talents, so he pointed at my Texas license plate and the overflowing roof cargo bag. Identifying me as a road-tripper would have only been easier if I had it stamped on my forehead.

Before I could answer his first question, he asked another:

"Where you headed? How far have you driven?" I responded with a few answers and we exchanged some pleasant banter while our sandwiches were being prepared. Soon, his sandwich was done and the cashier was ready to take his money.

"So did you know you're in a special Subway? There have been three shootings here in the last couple of months. That's forensic tape over there under the table. And that's a bullet hole right there next to it. Heh heh heh. Pretty funny, huh? How old is your baby?"

Wait a second. Back up one minute. Three shootings? In this Subway? Um ok.
"She's seven weeks old. So, uh, three shootings. That seems like a lot for one sandwich shop."

"Oh yeah," said the cashier, "I was here for the last one. Homeless guy was trying to get a drink and wouldn't lay down on the floor. Got shot in the leg and then walked right out the store. He didn't even care that he got shot."

Well good for him. I glanced at my wife leaning into our car to change the baby's diaper, and suddenly wished I had the "old" Subway Jared guy as a body shield. I could use a 400 pounder to block any stray bullets that might be heading my family's way.

I hurried through ordering my footlong Turkey and politely listened to the cop and the Subway sandwich artist exchange war stories about Battlefield Subway.

"Another time, I saw the guy crouching down like this in front of the window with his gun. I didn't even wait to see him walk in the door. I just ran straight out the back and didn't even turn around."

The cashier couldn't have captured my feelings better right then. All of the sudden everyone in the parking lot looked like they might jump out of their beaten up cars and start spraying the front of the store with semi-automatic rounds. I pretty much wanted to run, not walk, back to the car.

"Gee. That's incredible. Three shootings. Wow. Well, thanks for the sandwich, have a great day."

So maybe I'm paranoid. I don't know. But when I got back to the car, I insisted that we go to a different parking lot to eat our sandwich and finish our driving break. As if the only place in that general area that suffered from some form of crime was the Subway sandwich shop.

Or maybe it was just my fatherly instinct kicking in. Any place with more than a couple of shootings in a span of a couple of months just isn't safe. Move family far from there. That's a good rule to go by, in my opinion.