“You’re going to need these. You know you will.” He said while sliding a backpack across the table. I grabbed the bag and nodded my head in thanks. He has always had whatever I needed, I don’t need much but he has always come through. I looked at the bag in excitement, I couldn’t wait to put it to use.
I stood up and turned away from him. As I did, I said “Thanks man, see you in a week.” We meet every week, primarily just because we have been close for year, but we do the occasional deal similar to this one.
I placed the bag around my shoulder and left the room, he remained silent as I left. I made my way out of the warehouse he calls his home and walked two blocks to the nearest subway station. Once the train arrived I stepped aboard and took a seat near to the door into the cab.
After the train began moving I stood up and opened the bag, removing the pair of bolt cutters it contained. I placed the massive metal shears around the doorknob on the cab. The door was locked, but locks mean nothing to men with bolt cutters. I effortlessly pressed the handles together and gave a slight tug to tear the doorknob away. Now it was revealed a messily cut hole into the locking portion of the door. Normally this is a pick resistant lock, but with a small blow with the handle of the bolt cutters the whole thing fell away. The door swung open and I stepped into the cab. I stepped in, demanded that the engineer leave, and took control.
This was my origin story, it seems so simple now but in the moment I felt as if I would live forever. I have been driving for the New York MTA for the last 28 years now, all starting with that first ride. To this day I thank my friend for helping me get where I am today, I couldn’t have done it without him. That’s how we roll.