I'm not making this up.
These are real.
Okay.
Who has a safety deposit box full of
money and six passports
and a gun?
Who has a bank account
number in their hip?
I come in here, and the first thing
I'm doing is I'm catching the sightlines
and looking for an exit.
I see the exit sign, too.
I'm not worried.
I mean, you were shot.
People do all kinds of weird and
amazing stuff when they are scared.
I can tell you the license plate
numbers of all six cars outside.
I can tell you that our
waitress is left-handed
and the guy sitting at the counter
weighs 215 pounds and can handle himself.
I know the best place to look for a gun
is the cab of the gray truck outside.
And at this altitude, I can run flat out for
a half-mile before my hands start shaking.
Now why would I know that?
How can I know that
and not know who I am?
