I Didn't Become A Secret Service Agent For The Jimmy Carter Midnight To 6 A.M. Shift
became a Secret Service to have one of the most exciting and dangerous jobs in the world. Ever since I was a kid, I've dreamed of standing beside the president of the United States in my suit and aviator glasses, ever vigilant and ready at a moment's notice to kill or die to protect him. My courage and training would be all that stood in the way of a national tragedy; the fate of the free world would hinge on my actions alone.Instead, I'm sitting around watching infomercials on the Jimmy Carter overnight shift. Jesus.
Look, I've got nothing against President Carter. How could I? I've only seen him awake once in the past year. He got up, and I escorted him to the kitchen where he had some coffee cake. I gave him the Braves score because he had turned in before the game ended. He asked me if the new garbage cans were keeping the raccoons out, and I told him they seemed to be holding up the few times I checked. Then he went back to bed. Not exactly exchanging fire with would-be assassins as I chase them across an abandoned aqueduct, now, am I?
There's just so much cool stuff I could be doing, you know? Sometimes as I'm conducting my nightly thermostat check, I visualize myself perched on a rooftop as the presidential motorcade passes by. I spot a man in a window across the street taking aim with a sniper rifle, but before he can fire, I get him in my scope, adjust for the wind, and take him out with a single lethal head shot.
See, I actually know how to do that. Seriously, I'm fully trained in counter-sniper tactics and lots of other impressive things. But what am I doing? Guarding a foreign dignitary during high-stakes peace talks? Disarming explosives set by crazed fundamentalists in the U.N. cafeteria?
Nope. I'm letting Jimmy Carter's cat in and out 50 times a night and heating up the leftover chicken cacciatore Rosalynn set out for me.
If I worked the day shift, I could tail President Carter on his morning bike ride at a close but unobtrusive distance. Maybe afterward I'd shadow him at church and make sure the diner was secure before he sat down to his grits and cheese. It sure as hell isn't pope detail, but there's always a chance that something could go down, that some lunatic could try to make a name for himself.
http://www.theonion.com/articles/i-didnt-become-a-secret-service-agent-for-the-jimm,18211/
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