Mia: Shaken Not Stirred


The true life stories of a NYC female.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

The Pink Trench Coat Mafia


You know how it is you get a group of females around the table with a bottle of tequila between them and the conversation starts flowing in all directions dipping and twisting like the hills in Central Park. The Pink Trench Coat Mafia meeting was in session. How we exactly came to be known as The Pink Trench Coat Mafia was a mystery. None of us owned trench coats pink or otherwise and none of us had ties to the Cosa Nostra but it had been Linda’s joke one day and had taken a life of its own.

As we knocked back the tequila shots the talk turned to crime. Perhaps it was because at one time or another four of us had majored in some aspect of law enforcement or maybe it was because of something we’d seen on the news. Either way there we were talking about “what if”, each of us taking turns trying to get out of some situation Linda's diabolical mind devised for us. I swear that female has serial killer tendencies. Linda stared at me, “Ready Mia it’s your turn.” “Hit me with it!”I said as I leaned back in my chair.


“The scenario is simple you’re being held against your will in a crappy ass room somewhere and the cavalry is no where near to rescue you… Okay how would you get out?"

-Am I tied up or something?

-- Na the guy is so confident that there’s no way out he lets you walk around the room.

-what makes him so confident? ‘cause you know that can be used as a weapon against him too.

--Um let me think.

while Linda thought about it the rest of The Pink Trench Coat Mafia and I discussed self defense tactics.

--Ok I got it!

-Got what Linda?

--The reason he’s so confident.

-Well what is it?

--He’s had you there for over a month and swears you actually want to stay with him.

-Delusional son of a bitch ain’t he? That’ll be his down fall.

--How so?

-Well if he thinks I don’t want to leave he’ll let his guard down.

--Oh yeah I can see that.

-So uh no way out?

--Yeah no way out.

- Kitchen knife!

-- No weapons around or anything that could be used as a weapon by you. He’s the only one with a weapon, a gun.

-God that sucks.

I leaned forward to let one of the girls squeeze by me. She was returning from the juke box. The opening whispers of "Let The Bodies Hit The Floor" vibrated across the room. I rolled my eyes at her and let out a groan. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled, “Aw come on it’s theme music!” With the exception of Linda we all started bouncing our heads and singing along to the music. Linda tapped her shot glass on the table to get our attention.

-Yo Mia focus over here!

-Fine, fine. Where were we?

--It’s one room. No kitchen. No bathroom. Nothing, just this one room.

-No bathroom?

--Nope, you have to use this 5 gallon plastic container as your bathroom.

-Ewwww. So what’s the layout of the room?

-- No windows. Only one way out through the door

- So I’m in a stink ass room. Wonderful.

-Okay what is in the room?

--Sofa to sleep and sit on, television and pc to keep you occupied. Oh and a chair. No internet.

-What no internet?! I can’t even blog! Oh hell no!

--You’re stupid you know that don’t you?

-You know Linda you have a bit of a mean streak in you. Ever thought about some therapy?

she rolled her eyes at me and smiled.

-So that’s it?

-- Yeah

-Diablo talk about sparse. Oh wait he’s gotta eat at least what about drinking glasses, dishes, forks?

--No

-No what? He doesn’t eat?

--Na all the food is take out. All the food is take out styrofoam containers, styro cups, and plastic sporks.

-What is he planning to kill me with concern for the environment, or is it my food allergies?

the rest of The Pink Trench Coat Mafia went to work on a plan. I remained silent and listened to all the scenarios for possible escape being floated around.

“Ah easy hit the mofo with the chair when his back is turned!” one of the girls shouted over the music. “Na” Linda said, “You can’t. Everything is bolted to the floor. The TV and pc are bolted to the wall unit and desk. The chair is bolted, the sofa is bolted.””What kind of shit is that Linda?” one of the girls asked. “It’s my scenario I plot it the way I want to.” “What kind of computer lap top or desk top?” I asked. “Desk top.” “Okay”

the table fell silent everyone was obviously running the scenario through their heads trying to figure a way out of it. I reached for the bottle and poured myself a shot. Licking the space between my thumb and index finger I sprinkled some salt on it then threw back a shot of tequila. It made my throat feel warm. I quickly sucked on the lime wedge I was holding. My eyes squinted and I ran my tongue over my lips tasting the lime on them. I was ready for business now and it came out in one breathless statement running together like the world’s longest sentence….

-Pick up the bucket fling the stuff in it in his face run to the pc pull out the cord from the monitor use it to whip him in the face. Aim for his eyes. If you’re lucky you can put one of them out. Keep whipping him in the eye area and the bridge of his nose. When he tries to grab you give kick him the nuts. That should bring him down. Once he’s on the floor take his gun from him. If he gives you too much of a hassle use your forearm right across his nose or his throat. Take the gun shoot him in the knee caps and in the wrists if you can spare the bullets. Then drag him to the sofa. Wrap the cord around his neck, there should be some slack in it. Tie it as tight as you can to the bolted sofa leg. Then search him for the keys, unlock the door and walk out. Oh yeah kick him one more time in the nuts for good measure.

I sat back in my chair kind of satisfied with myself. The girls looked at me nodded in unison agreeing that it might work. Linda ordered a round of Coronas and then turned to me.

--Shit Mia what the hell was that?! I never even thought of that. The computer cord?!

I shrugged my shoulders

-Like my uncle says even a feather can be a lethal weapon in the right hands.

--Let me guess Tank said that.

Six years older than me Tank is my mom’s brother but because we were raised together he’s more like my older brother. His name suits him. The man is lethal looking, even his stares are intimidating people have a tendency to get out of his way when they see him coming. In his line of work it’s important you know how to defend yourself and never show fear. Ever. Tank made it his business to teach my siblings and me self-defense as soon as we were able to take a punch without running to mommy. In my case I was 13.

-You got it.

The beers arrived and following Linda’s lead we raised our bottles in the air, “To Tank, he’s taught you well little grass hopper!” “To Tank!” The Pink Trench Coat Mafia shouted in unison.

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