I am going to share a single day with you all- what I now refer to as "the day of hell." April 27, 2012.
I was under the realization that I was being followed, by who or what I didn't know. I'd spent days walking around San Francisco, dodging in and out of trains, malls... anything to get these fuckers off my tail. As soon as I reappeared, I was reacquired. It was obvious to me they were using my phone to track me.
On April 27th I woke up to a giant truck in the back alley. I was staying at a friend's house, where I am now. Workers were making a huge noise loading metal onto a truck- this went on for over an hour. I went out to the back yard and the 3 people there stopped loading and spoke loud enough for me to hear "I don't know how we fucked this up. We now only have two options- we can go in there or... fuck, is that him?" as the guy looks at me. this, of course made me scared to death. I put my boots on, my helmet, rode my motorcycle around to the back alley to about 20 feet shy of them and then shouted at them "I'm tired of this, JUST CALL ME." To which I received a blank stare.
The purpose of this was two fold: the day prior I had admitted to someone I know know to be "one of them" that I had PTSD. They used this to their advantage and forced me out of my home, which was the point. (Loud noises like gunshot noises- clanging metal.) I was now in the wild and could be engaged. I wish I realized it at the time.
So, I race off into San Mateo. Knowing that my phone is a glorified tracking device and camera I get rid of it. Mind you this is a 4s 64gb, so I'm tossing $700. I put the phone under the mulch at the SM Dept of water sign. I buried it under mulch to hide it and raced off. When I hit the highway the bike's back tire vibrated wildly over 40mph. I had no choice, I had to get off the freeway. I went to foster city and parked at costco. I walked around trying to get my head straight and went to a jamba juice. While I'm in line 2 men, dressed professionaly are having a discussion behind me about them having a new friend that needs to get used to confined living and they hope he adapts, because he's going to have to stay there for a while. "Ok" I think to myself- "law enforcement pinball" is in full effect. I get my juice, walk to the park, try to settle down a bit. I walk back to the bike and in the other direction... the same two men. I throw my hands up in the air, sit down and wait for them to come get me... and they walk on by- as they do they continue to talk about metaphors easily interpreted as incarceration.
I shit bricks.
I head back to Costco, now with the realization that a tracking device is most likely on my bike as well. I looked *everywhere* for it, to no avail. Then I notice the truck parked next to me, as I've seen it a few times before. A guy is putting groceries into the back of his flatbed- in plastic bags. Problem: Bay area Costcos don't use plastic bags. Duly noted, Mr black truck always following me around guy.
So I drive off to El Camino Real, South. I've come to know what being followed is like but today is different- today it feels like the entire fucking DEA and FBI are along for the ride. Cars and people I've seen before. I'm trying to figure out what to do. In hindsite, they got exactly what they've been aiming for- I forgot my wallet, had no phone. I was vulnerable and terrified. Why did I deserve this level of attention?
As I rode south I tried to think of why. Why is this happening? I stopped at a Starbucks to get the name of a law firm a friend is associated with. I asked someone sitting there to look it up for me. I tried to ask in a way that seemed normal but I'm sure that guy wondered why I looked as I did. I got the info and continued south.
It's at this point where I realize that since I'm being followed, obviously they are going to ask that guy what I wanted and by the time I arrive at that firm they'll have beat me there, made up some bullshit excuse about me and most likely replaced the receptionist with someone from law enforcement. Mentally, I scrub the plan.
I stop at a t-mobile store and buy a pay-as-you-go-phone. (I've got about $140 in my pocket. I'm notorious for only using my pockets for my cash.) It costs me like $50. While I'm activating it the person helping me gets a call from the back room and seems perplexed by whatever is being asked of him. He goes to the back room- and at the same time a guy, well dressed comes quickly into the store and to the back room- but he knocks and doesn't know the door code. He's let in. I assume this to be a fed and this is them enabling the roaming wiretap on my new phone. "Fuck me" is all I think, but I still want the phone.
I go south to Palo Alto, stopping at the McDonalds there on the corner of where HP is (page mill?). I arrive and there's TWO people sequentially who ask me "How my bike is riding" even before I get in the place. FML, but I dismiss it- how could they know I would be stopping at a fucking McDonalds? I think. I go to order food but suddenly the 2 people ordering before me in Spanish take FOREVER to do so, then get their orders wrong... basically I'm 3rd in line yet it takes me 20 minutes to order my food. Seemingly impossible but I have to think to myself that this is potentially part of it. When I order the woman at the counter seems perplexed about what I want and then hands me the wrong change back. I call her on it, she denies it so I say "you know what- nevermind." Multiple people behind me then order as I wait for my food. Their food comes out before mine. Huh.
It is at this point where I've come to realize I'm encountering an unreasonable amount of "hostile interactions" with people. Despite me being polite, accepting in my demeanor these "tense" situations are building. It now seems completely plausible to me that I am in fact, being tested.
During all this I'm on the phone with my sister trying to explain what's going on. She's concerned and wants to help but doesn't know how. Of course the reception on the phone to her is like I just called Guatemala on a payphone, I can barely hear her. Dropped calls a plenty. Right: mental note: not only are my calls monitored, they are obfuscated at will. Again, FML.
Back on the bike, south- to Los Altos. I stop by a friends house looking for her but she's gone. So is the neighbor who's house is in front. Something feels, well... not right. Blinds closed, eerily quiet... I leave.
I stop other places and have other micro-stories but I'm going to fast forward to what is the ultimate mindfuck to close this out. When you read it you're going to have a red pill - blue pill moment as it's simply too bizarre to believe but I bet my life, my soul, everything I hold dear this is the truth.
I head back north from mountain view on el camino. The traffic is extraordinary and just feels... wrong. I don't lane split, I just continue as a good cog not knowing what they'd throw my way.
Now, a few days prior I had received advice from my lawyer friend: (She's a partner at perkins coie, she knows her shit.) She says go to a hospital, they cannot interfere with me seeking help. My heartbeat is skipping (my father died at 47 of a heart attack, I'm 42.) and I'm exhausted and probably in danger of driving off the road. So I drive to Palo Alto Medical Foundation, where I'd been seen before. I go to urgent care, say I need to see a doctor. She asks for insurance or cash, of which I have neither on me. She says it's $300 just to be seen. I say "it's ok, but could you tell me the names of my physicians?" She writes them down for me as I contemplate some subversive way to see them and decide I don't have those skills in my current state. The woman tells me I can go to Stanford Medical center across the street, they don't require the payment up front. "Thanks" I say. I politely ask if I can sit for a moment in the waiting room and have some water before I get on the road again, she says "sure." So I sit about 15 feet from her.
It's at this point a woman in her late 40's walks up to the receptionist and starts asking questions about me. I'm not sure why she doesn't think she's in earshot or maybe she doesn't care. She asks if I was threatening in any way, to which the woman says no, I was polite. She asks her what I wanted, what my demeanor was, etc. "right" I say to myself, mental note: previous theory about trying to get me riled up enough to behave the wrong way *validated.*
I don't know why their psychological profile didn't figure this out but the more shit starts to hit the fan the more likely I'll get get more polite. Particularly with the entire fucking "whatever this is" following me. But really, I was so scared I felt like I wanted my mommy at this point.
Sooo... off to Stanford.
I pull into Stanford. The security guy tells me to park "down below" in an area that seems deemed for staff. Ok, fine. This guy's got a look in his eye that's not right. So do the hospital workers next to him. I shrug it off as paranoia- I should have trusted my instincts. I head in and sit down with a polite african american woman who gets me rolling on the paperwork. She then asks me to sign the line where it says I received their privacy statement... but I haven't received it. I ask to see it and she replies "that's handed to you after you are seen." I say well, that doesn't make any sense, I mean I can't sign something if I haven't seen it. She balks and just stonewalls for a bit and then says "fine, give me a sec."
She comes back with the policy. Two interesting things about it: number one, it's got a 3 hole punch in it. Why? Second, there's a paragraph that says "we have the right to record you anywhere in this facility including rest rooms, proceedures... EVERYTHING." I sign and raise my shields, am I walking into a trap? How the fuck would they have a trap here... waiting? How could they know I'd be here? I convince myself it's an impossibility and go use the restroom.
I sit down to piss, staring forward there's a little box, maybe 5 inches long, 2 inches high clamped under the sink. It has a smoke lens on the front. Ok, enjoy the video of me doing my thing. Even before I finish pissing I hear my name being called. Despite there being like 30 people ahead of me... Ok.
I'm lead into a small room, more closet like, maybe 5'x5'. There's a brunette nurse with an ekg and a blonde woman who I'm told is a doctor. there's a computer stand there. The 3 of us barely fit. I'm told to take my shirt off for the ekg pads and I do. Meanwhile the doctor says they're going to get some blood tests rolling- but didn't even ask me what I'm feeling. I look down and to her right the same little box with the lens on it. I look into this woman's eyes and I don't feel caring from her- I feel hate. I politely says I'm uncomfortable being seen by her and start to remove the pads. She tries to convince me to stay but I say "no, I am not comfortable with you as my doctor. I want to see someone else." She is PISSED. As soon as I get my shirt on.. BAM- I hear my name being called again. I go out and there's an attractive nurse in scrubs, about 30, long blonde hair. She leads me into the *real* emergency area, and then past it. She says I need an x-ray. We continue walking, until we hit an area of the hospital that nobody else is in. There's a sherriff on the end of the hall looking. The nurse turns to me and asks "Do you have any metal on you or do you have any numbers printed on the shirt under my jacket?" To which, well... I ask "what?" As my mind, body and spirit drop out she repeats herself "Do you have any metal on you or numbers printed on the shirt underneath? Because someone is going to prison for a long, long time."
I collapsed on the floor, helmet in hand. She is prepping the x-ray table. I stand up- and walk away.
I walk around Stanford for hours. I don't feel safe on the bike and am convinced these fuckers are going to kill me. It gets to be about midnight and I head to the caltrain station. There a guy walks by and says loudly "So, you finally decided to go home huh?" To which I reply what? He turns toward me, revealing the bluetooth in his ear. He pretends to have a phone conversation as he takes out a key and enters the restricted part of the station. The door closes and the laughter of many people erupts. He says "I love fucking with them using that one."
One other person engages me, he's wearing a jacket with pockets in the sides with cameras holes in them. he's not subtle about pointing them toward me.
I'm out of there. I take a cab back to my friends. The cab driver? Probably in on it but I give no shits. He drops me at my friends house. I tell my friend the whole story, he shits bricks. I tell him I put my phone where I did. We hop on the ipad, use find my iphone and it's still there. He drives me over.
I arrive at the San Mateo Dept of Water at 12:30am. The lights are on, a car is in the driveway and someone is at the counter. I look for my phone, it's magically unburrowed itself and is sitting as clean as can be atop the mulch. "You're lucky" my friend says "it's still here." To which I reply "lucky? that's the best guarded phone in the bay area, they want me to have it."
We head home and I realize we now live in Amerika. Freedom is an illusion, wipe your ass with the constitution and civil rights. I am a dead man.
My story is enormous, it takes hours just to type a single day out. I have like 10 months of this. I swear to all I hold dear this is the complete truth and my experience on that day.