Guilty 2X

Having easy access to a public landing that is also next to a grocery store, gas station, and possibly a good bakery is almost impossible to come by in some places, as I've mentioned before.  Last week, Gary and I trespassed onto a condo's private property in order to visit a nearby hardware store for a sorely needed part.  We got in and out quite easily, but I really hated every minute.

But today, I let myself get into the same situation again.  We were running low on fuel for the dinghy and since the next leg of the journey is in the Everglades, we know the likelihood of finding a nearby gas station is going to be nil.  Carrying a fuel can any distance is hard work, but a mile or more is crazy.

So Gary found a dock by a neighborhood with a road that lead out to the main road close to a gas station.  He did this on his phone and the phone did not tell us that the small group of houses was also a private community (there are so many down here).  We didn't know of our problem until we'd docked the dinghy and started walking down the road.  I saw the black gate before they did.  I also saw a landscape crew working there and asked one whether we could get out the gate. 

"No English," replied the young man.

I kept walking and the gate opened as I approached as some of the crew were outside coming into the neighborhood and their waiting truck.  I motioned to the code key machine and motioned to one of the guys what the number was.

Surprisingly, he showed me.  I opened it for the guys as they approached; they were so proud of my resourcefulness.

We went our separate ways, me to a shop and bakery, them to the hardware store; we met up at the gas station and I bought the last jar of peanut butter on the shelf (how can we be in the Everglades without peanut butter?) and some other snacks while they filled the dinghy gas jerry can and a new jerry can that is for a stash.

I punched the code for the gate and we entered, just a few more steps until we were home free.   Elliott was lagging, though, and while Gary and I got to the dinghy and loaded it up and got in.

I looked down the road and saw the smaller gas jerry can sitting on the side of the road.  Oh crap; what has happened to the kid?  Gary mentioned that Elliott had seen a car he really liked and was probably taking pictures.  What?  Seriously?

We got settled and then I looked up and saw Elliott pick up the jerry can and start walking out to us; thank goodness.  I just wanted to get out of there.  But then I noticed he was walking with an older man.  Seems Elliott just couldn't resist talking to the owner of the cool car and now here he came as jauntily as could be.

The man said hello and said that he let Elliott see the car and even sit in it.  Isn't Elliott lucky?  Yes, that was a facetious remark.  The guy didn't ask our names, thankfully, as he appeared to be a leader in the little community and involved in Coast Guard activities.  He asked us where we were headed next, etc., and the guys told him.  Oy.  He did say that "they" (as in the community) were always happy to help someone out in an emergency situation like ours.  (Breathe, Ruth, breathe.)  He wished us luck on our travels and said goodbye.

I scolded Elliott on stopping to talk to people in whose neighborhood you are trespassing, even if they have a cool car in their garage, even if it is a 1973 DeTomasso Pantera.  Even if you feel compelled to help the guy remove a piece of plywood off the top of the car, though, in hindsight, this could have been the reason we did not get reported.  So of course, I'm torn, but still upset.  The guy could have marched right home and called local police or the Coast Guard and we'd been nailed.  He could have someone waiting for us at our next port of call.

The worst part of this is that the guy asked Elliott how we'd gotten out the gate; he told him we'd gotten some help from the landscaping guys.  I don't think he said anything about the guy giving me the code, but now I'm feeling like the worst human being on earth.  

I involved someone else in my subterfuge and now that person (or his company) may lose an account or get in some trouble.  I hereby renounce my life of crime because the guilt was doubled today.  I will never again involve an innocent person who didn't know me from anyone and just did what any normal person might do, especially with the language barrier.  I am so sorry.

I guess a good thing from this is that I know in Elliott I am not raising someone who is naturally a criminal at heart, you know?  He could learn, I suppose, but right now he is open, easygoing, seriously friendly, and obsessive of cars (sometimes to a fault).  I don't want to change that, but I do want him to be wary and know that too much information can be harmful.

As for me, like I said, the criminal life is over.  No more trespassing.  Of course, this means less time on land, but I'll have to live with it, won't I?