Home Invasion: When I was a kid, there was this one ADT home security system commercial that scared the fucking shit out of me. It featured three criminals; a menacing black burglar ("I know when you're home and when you're not!"), a junkie cat burglar ("I can pick most locks with a credit card.") and finally, the Latino lurker (It was easy. They didn't even know we was in the house.") I'm least scared by junkie cat burglar. He's not a physically imposing figure and his claim of being able to pick most locks with a credit card is absurd. Motherfucker, if you can pick a deadbolt with a Visa card, I will gladly give you my shit. The black burglar looked like he could bend Bo Jackson into a pretzel and he knows my schedule. Scary. Latino burglar frightened me more than the other two combined. He's just walking behind my house while I'm watching TV, filling up a sack with electronics and other valuables. Years of watching Rescue 911, America's Most Wanted and Unsolved Mysteries did not help me overcome this fear.
This is a semi-rational fear that loses validity when I tell you that I include cockroaches in the "home invader" category. The roaches and I have an understanding that they can have any other apartment in the building if they leave mine alone. Sometimes they break this sacred contract and I freak out when I see one. Not because I fear their strange, alien little bodies. I just know there are many more where that one crawled out from.
Balloons Popping: The fear of balloons is known as globophobia. Fear of loud sounds is called ligyrophobia. I'm not afraid of balloons and I'm not afraid of all loud sounds. I'm terrified of balloons popping. I can never have children because they will expect parties with balloons and I can never accommodate them. I'm a bad, balloon-fearing daddy. This fear may be rooted in an early childhood incident when Andrew Montemorano, a kindergarten bully, purposefully missed a swing at a donkey pinata and struck me in the head with a souvenir size wooden bat. All I remember was a flash of light and the sound of the pinata exploding a few seconds later. Maybe Andrew thought I had better candy encased in my skull. Or maybe he was just a sociopath. Wondering what the connection is here? That pinata was once a balloon. True story.
Lightning: Professional golfer Lee Trevino was twice struck by lightning on the golf course. There is nothing scarier than a random bolt of electricity landing a few feet from the place in which you stand. Actually, being Lee Trevino is scarier.
Leaving New York City: I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. However, the day may come when opportunities abound elsewhere and I will set sail for fonder pastures. That scares me. I have a big time comfort zone in New York. I attribute all of my success to living in and making it in New York City. Even in the most punishing economic climates, I've forgiven New York for not providing me with work and ample shelter. I'm a sucker for this city, but I know I can make it outside its boundaries.
Breaking My Beak: That would fucking hurt. I'm a bleeder.
Being Alone: Other people, places and things do not define me. But my quality of life would be severely diminished without my girlfriend, cats and dog. I enjoy occasional solitude but loneliness with no end in sight scares me. I'm mindful of how lucky I am and the thought of losing that is, at times, too much to bear. Well, there are just a few things that scare the bajeezus out of me. There are more, but these will do for now. What scares you?
