My “Allergies” is what I call any thing or recurring situation where danger can pop-up. Some are obvious as hell like pissing off a bunch of Hell Angels, sticking a knife in an electrical outlet, rattlesnake handling (or any snake) or trying to have a rational argument with a belligerent drunk. I know that nothing good is gonna come out of it and that I will be kicking myself in the ass later.
But if there is one thing in South Florida that will make me cringe in horror faster than Lady Gaga making out with Cher is the sight of an armored truck. I don’t know if it is my particular perception, but for some reason armored trucks seem to be hit at least once a month around here and always violently. We all should know about what is perhaps the most infamous armed confrontation in the late 20th century: The Miami FBI Shootout where the FBI went toe to toe with two dangerous armored truck robbers who were preparing for another heist. At the end, two FBI agents were dead, five wounded and the two critters were also doing their last repose on cold slabs at the coroner’s office. Just yesterday a Brinks truck was robbed not very far from my house leaving one guard dead of a head shot wound. That tells me that the critters are not unwilling to go ugly fast and that they are taking no chances with bulletproof vest.
My “medicine” for this “allergy” is quite simple: Avoid the hell out of the trucks. I will simply will not go inside a store that has an armored truck parked outside either delivering or doing a pick up. If I am already inside the store, I will seek a location as far as possible from the doors, start scanning like crazy and pray the damn thing leaves soon. I will not park near a truck even if it is empty and the guards are having some empanadas and cuban coffeee at the corner cafeteria. And I will even take it to driving and let a truck pass me or I’ll search for an alternative route just in case.
I would hate for my wife collecting my life insurance because I died because of some bags of quarters being delivered to the local Big Box store. And no, I will not ask her opinion on the subject.