andamu

In the airlock as I enter the lab hangs a cabinet. It has an electronic keypad and a large warning sign to the effect that opening the door without entering the security code will result in an alarm being sounded. The cabinet is labeled contain medical and emergency response equipment.

Passing it every day I was so tempted to peek inside - just because I was not supposed to. The temptation was particularly strong as I left the lab in the evening; I would at times smile to myself as I walked to the car. And then I would remember an incident with my father more than 25 years ago.

I was such a little prude back then -- something which no doubt made my parents very proud, and had them congratulating themselves on their child-rearing philosophy and methodology -- that I could not imagine going against any of the (big) rules.

Anyway, we were at the international airport, wishing my grandmother farewell on a trip abroad, when he and I passed a door marked "Strictly No Entry. Authorized Personnel Only."

"Oh, how I wish I were a criminal," my dad remarked.
"What??" yelped little me, thoroughly scandalized. "Why??"
"If I were I would go through that door," he explained. "Aren't you curious about what's inside?"

At another stage, he said he wanted to go and fly around the Bermuda Triangle so that he might disappear and get to see what was on the other side, what was really going on.
I was too busy trying to recover from an anxiety attack and the accompanying palpitations that the thought of this evoked to try and figure out whether he was serious, or teasing. And I never did get the opportunity: my father was horribly killed when I was 13.

I wonder what (if anything) he found on the other side. Mostly, I wonder at times when I am chuckling about my temptation to open the cabinet, whether he is chuckling with me. How far I've come.

::

The post script of the story: by a long series of coincidental events I have become a member of the safety team that has the code to that cabinet, and others like it. I've seen inside the cabinet now, and I've even handled the equipment.

For a little while it was exciting, like having a secret, being in the know. But gradually the excitement has worn off, and become rather blah. These days if I think of the cabinet at all, it is with a slight trepidation that it might someday be necessary to put my knowledge to use.