and gesturing to the blank black screen. Uri shrugged and said that he did not care and was not truly paying any attention to the radio program anyway. The new FBI man nodded politely and flipped through the channels, clicking the button over and over until he stopped on a baseball game. Four pitches were thrown in three minutes and Uri’s attention span was lost, absorbed once more in the agent’s sock.
Agent Hinckley came out of the bathroom stuffing his shirt into the waist of his pants. The weapon on his hip holster was the same standard glock that Uri assumed the FBI handed out to all of its people. Maybe when you graduated from the FBI academy they handed you a glock right along with your diploma. Uri had not spoken to the agents much about their jobs, he was satisfied to let his mind wander through the morass of possibilities. It was more fun to him this way, to imagine how a federal agent’s life might be like, rather than to learn of the dull reality. Perhaps when he was through testifying and relocated to Alaska he could investigate becoming an agent of some kind. Uri let himself day-dream about his future life in that bleak, cold wasteland until he drifted off to sleep.
Shortly after three in the morning Uri was roused by the sound of shouting. Outside a man’s voice was raised in anger, but Uri could not make out the specifics. Agent Hinckley got up and went to the window and flicked the curtain aside.
“What is it?” Agent Winstone asked from the bed.
“There’s some guy knocking on all the doors. Looking for his girlfriend sounds like.”
Uri’s curiosity in the noise had already ceased. He was intensely studying the patterns in the hotel room’s carpet. The voice from outside kept going for several more minutes, a vague hum of discontent. Agent Hinckley kept watching at the window.
“Don’t they have anybody to deal with this kind of thing?”
Reclining in his lazy nest of pillows Agent Winstone shrugged.
“Peace of mind costs money.”
The sound of the disturbance got louder and Agent Hinckley commented that the man had walked upstairs and was now knocking at the second floor rooms.
“He sounds drunk. I’m going to go tell him to knock it off.”
After he picked up the electronic key card for the room Agent Hinckley walked to the door and swung it open. He paused in the doorway and told the other FBI man not to go anywhere, and to make sure not to answer for anybody but him. A rush of hot, dry air came in before the door clicked shut.
Uri shivered and glanced over at Agent Winstone on the bed. He was staring.
“Vat? Vat is it?”
“Nothing.”
The FBI man searched around in the sheets and covers until he found the TV remote again. While Uri was sleeping the game must have ended because the show playing was just a rehash of highlights from around the league. Two sportscasters were arguing whether a base runner should have been called safe or out. The TV replayed the slide into third base from one angle, and then another. Agent Winstone pressed a button on the remote and the sound of the sportscasters debating grew and filled the room.
“Vat are you doing?”
Agent Winstone had gotten up from the bed and was scrutinizing Uri from across the room. He replied that he was not doing anything as he twisted his feet into his shoes without unlacing them first. The volume on the TV turned up higher.
You can clearly see here from this angle that Robinson does not bring the tag down in time to reach Munoz before he reaches the bag… Yes but that’s really a technicality, when the throw beats the runner by that much the umpire is going to call him out nine times out of ten regardless of what happens with the tag… That may be true but that doesn’t make it right… Now Tom Ianucci got ejected for arguing the call as you see here and he had to know they were going to toss him but sometimes you have to make a
Agent Hinckley came out of the bathroom stuffing his shirt into the waist of his pants. The weapon on his hip holster was the same standard glock that Uri assumed the FBI handed out to all of its people. Maybe when you graduated from the FBI academy they handed you a glock right along with your diploma. Uri had not spoken to the agents much about their jobs, he was satisfied to let his mind wander through the morass of possibilities. It was more fun to him this way, to imagine how a federal agent’s life might be like, rather than to learn of the dull reality. Perhaps when he was through testifying and relocated to Alaska he could investigate becoming an agent of some kind. Uri let himself day-dream about his future life in that bleak, cold wasteland until he drifted off to sleep.
Shortly after three in the morning Uri was roused by the sound of shouting. Outside a man’s voice was raised in anger, but Uri could not make out the specifics. Agent Hinckley got up and went to the window and flicked the curtain aside.
“What is it?” Agent Winstone asked from the bed.
“There’s some guy knocking on all the doors. Looking for his girlfriend sounds like.”
Uri’s curiosity in the noise had already ceased. He was intensely studying the patterns in the hotel room’s carpet. The voice from outside kept going for several more minutes, a vague hum of discontent. Agent Hinckley kept watching at the window.
“Don’t they have anybody to deal with this kind of thing?”
Reclining in his lazy nest of pillows Agent Winstone shrugged.
“Peace of mind costs money.”
The sound of the disturbance got louder and Agent Hinckley commented that the man had walked upstairs and was now knocking at the second floor rooms.
“He sounds drunk. I’m going to go tell him to knock it off.”
After he picked up the electronic key card for the room Agent Hinckley walked to the door and swung it open. He paused in the doorway and told the other FBI man not to go anywhere, and to make sure not to answer for anybody but him. A rush of hot, dry air came in before the door clicked shut.
Uri shivered and glanced over at Agent Winstone on the bed. He was staring.
“Vat? Vat is it?”
“Nothing.”
The FBI man searched around in the sheets and covers until he found the TV remote again. While Uri was sleeping the game must have ended because the show playing was just a rehash of highlights from around the league. Two sportscasters were arguing whether a base runner should have been called safe or out. The TV replayed the slide into third base from one angle, and then another. Agent Winstone pressed a button on the remote and the sound of the sportscasters debating grew and filled the room.
“Vat are you doing?”
Agent Winstone had gotten up from the bed and was scrutinizing Uri from across the room. He replied that he was not doing anything as he twisted his feet into his shoes without unlacing them first. The volume on the TV turned up higher.
You can clearly see here from this angle that Robinson does not bring the tag down in time to reach Munoz before he reaches the bag… Yes but that’s really a technicality, when the throw beats the runner by that much the umpire is going to call him out nine times out of ten regardless of what happens with the tag… That may be true but that doesn’t make it right… Now Tom Ianucci got ejected for arguing the call as you see here and he had to know they were going to toss him but sometimes you have to make a
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