Think Like A Thief

I sure do try to think like a thief a lot. Sometimes it’s when I’m hiding my keys outside, or when I’m trying to figure out where in the car to hide something shiny. I assume everyone else is doing this as well? I sit holding my wallet, look around the interior of the car and try to get inside the mind of a small-time criminal. Or I slowly walk through my house, usually pausing in the kitchen, asking who the hell would look in a box of Bisquick for a checkbook?


I think if they find it, thieves will take your weed 100% of the time. They’re thrilled to find weed, because that actually cuts out the middle man in some regard. It’s the equivalent of finding money, and in some cases may even be preferable. On a weather-related note, are you convinced like me that thieves don’t work in the rain? That’s the wave of relief I get on a rainy day—welp, at least I don’t have to worry about the thieves today. I can leave expensive shit lying around in plain view all day long. This means I get to toss credit cards and social security numbers out on the counter willy-nilly, and live without the constant fear of being ripped off. And I think it’s a win-win. I don’t think thieves are pissed off when it rains. I think they’re more like construction works in this regard. They’re dying for it to rain so they can stay home all day, get drunk and not have to go out thieving. We all need a day off.

Admittedly, there are times when I fantasize myself the bad guy. Flip the script a little, you know? Like, maybe something has happened and now I’m the thief. And I usually have a car. My car. And I’m being chased. And while I’m being chased, all I’m really wondering about is whether I have what it takes to escape. Could I speed up fast enough to get the cop out of the rearview? We all know what comes next—take an unexpected turn, pull into the first driveway and kill your lights and engine! Whatever the scenario, it almost always involves me killing the lights and cutting the engine. If I nail that part, I get away. I do know that much. And when I escape in the scenario it’s a really cool time. Now, that’s distinuighsable from those times in my fantasy where the cop spots me. Here’s an uncomfortable moment that drags on forever. Sort of like in Hide and Go Seek when you know your opponent has found you, but they play dumb for a few moments before acknowledging you. Until eventually you emerge from your hiding place, embarrassed and disgraced.

I have nothing to escape from, really, so I’ll never find out the answers to some of these questions. I don’t live a life of adventure in that regard. I am a parent of two though. And I have certainly envisioned escaping from those little bastards. In fact, my best plan to date is quite clever. I quietly sneak off during a really intense game of Hide and Seek. My kids would look for me for hours before reality began to set in. By then I’d be far away. In fact, I think some twenty years later in grocery stores and public places, they’d still reserve a part off themselves to the notion that I might ‘pop out’ from inside a watermelon bin, or that they’d spot me crouched uncomfortably on aisle 6 behind the first row of beans. That’s just the way the human brain works-- we want to pick up where we left off when last things were good. We never truly give up hope for the occurrence of impossible events.

The nice thing about this idea is that it gives me an eternal ‘in’ if I ever decide to return to their lives. They’d spot me behind a bush in a park, run up and tag me, and it would be game on. Just like we never missed a step. “Holy shit Dad! That was the most intense round of Hide and Seek I’ve EVER played! You’re the all time champion, Dad! Look Dad, I can do a somersault! Hey Dad, want to come back to the house and meet my wife and kids?”