What Goes Around Comes Around

I’d like to tell you a story… WARNING: it’s a bit complicated and will likely seem meandering and strange to share, but stick around to the end!

Where were you in Autumn 2003? I was a sophomore in college studying history at The Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. I was also a cadet in the Army ROTC program at Georgetown University since Georgetown was the hosting school for the DC Army ROTC consortium. Students from George Washington, American, Marymount, and Catholic universities gathered alongside Georgetown students to make up the “Hoya Battalion”, one of our nation’s oldest and most respected ROTC units preparing young men and women to serve as army officers.

It was typical to gather a few days a week in the early morning on our own campuses for physical training (PT), but we would all assemble on Fridays in Georgetown at the Yates Field House for battalion-wide PT. This could feature a wide array of strenuous physical activities, but on the morning our story opens we were rotating through stations of individual movement techniques. It was a chilly fall morning filled with crab walking, low crawling, buddy rushes carrying another cadet over one’s shoulders, and a host of other exhausting routines. A not uncommon challenge of being a non-Georgetown cadet who was weekly attending PT and ROTC classes at Georgetown was parking. Mea culpa, I parked in a lot of creative—OK, “illegal”—places during those 4 years, and it was always a dice roll.

On this particular morning, an upperclassman suddenly interrupted our PT session to announce that campus police were ticketing cars in the lot I had selected due to construction cutting off access to the usual out-of-the way lot I typically used. I went to grab my keys only to find that my pocket was empty! My eyes scanned the field in dismay, because I realized that at some entirely unknowable moment of the morning’s low crawling, they must have fallen out of my pocket. Suffice it to say that even though I was profoundly relieved when they were discovered about 20 minutes later, by the time I got to my Jeep there was a parking ticket on the windshield that I could see 50 yards away. I retrieved it with the shaking hand of a broke 19 year old and gulped as I read the fee: $75. Ouch. Even with my astronomical high school teacher’s salary today that would make me very upset!

I did what any desperate young college student would do. I rushed over to the campus parking office to attempt some good ole’ fashioned schmoozing. And I was in luck! The sweet old lady at the counter didn’t stand a chance. I was so nice. I was so innocent, so charming, so convincing when I assured her it would never happen again (I had no intention of keeping that promise). She voided the ticket right then and there and wished me a blessed day! You can imagine how cocky I was for the rest of that Friday. But believe me, I was about to get what was coming to me.

Going up...

The next morning was an FTX (“field training exercise”). These usually involved us leaving campus around 4 or 5 AM one Saturday morning per month. We would drive across town to Georgetown where we would load up on buses bound for one of the many military posts surrounding DC like Ft. Belvoir, Ft. A.P. Hill (now Ft. Walker), or Quantico Marine Base (where the FBI Academy is located). There we would engage in various training scenarios to prepare us for our future as military leaders: rappelling and obstacle courses, land navigation, battle simulations, etc. On this day, however, we remained in Georgetown for additional individual movement tactic training. The typical place I parked on days like this was in the tiny lot of a gas station adjacent to our ROTC academic building: an old renovated streetcar terminal known as “The Car Barn”. Fun fact: the infamous “Exorcist Steps” featured in the classic 1973 horror film run alongside this building from M St. below (where I usually parked) up several flights to Prospect St. where the entrance to the building is.

As my roommate Ryan and I were in a rush to get to training, I accidentally locked my keys in my Jeep. I couldn’t believe it. What a start to the day! Now, before I continue, here are the key players you’ll need to keep in mind, all of whom were fellow CUA students and ROTC cadets:

• Ryan – college roommate who rode with me that morning

• Dan – friend and senior cadet; drove separately in his pickup truck

• Tom – friend and junior cadet; drove a few other cadets from Catholic U separately and parked in a faculty lot nearby the lot I chose

Going down...

As we got to the training site—exhausted already from our sprint up the Exorcist Steps—I immediately sought out Dan and relayed my dilemma. He assured me not to worry and then, as one of the senior cadet officers with a bit more flexibility that day, he began to make some calls to local locksmiths. He found one who could come that evening several hours after training was to end, and Dan suggested we come back later in his truck to meet the locksmith. This seemed like a good plan for another reason as well. We got far muddier and more disgusting than any of us anticipated that day, and Tom didn’t want to drive back in his newer car. So Ryan, Tom, several other cadets and I all loaded up in the bed of Dan’s pickup and drove across Washington that afternoon—needless to say we got some funny looks!

Once we got back to our campus later that afternoon/evening and got cleaned up, we were ready to execute our plan. Ryan, Tom, and I would return to Georgetown in Dan’s pickup truck, drop me off at the gas station lot where my Jeep was parked, and then Tom could also get his car from the faculty lot. Simple, right? Everything took a turn for the worse when Dan’s truck ran out of gas right in the middle of M Street in Georgetown… on a Saturday night… when everyone and their brother is out and the streets of DC are even crazier than usual. You can imagine the reactions of fellow drivers to our new predicament!

M Street (Georgetown)

We tried to “adapt and overcome” as the Army was always entreating us to do, and luckily Dan had an empty gas can in the bed of his truck. New plan: Tom and I would take the gas can and run through Georgetown—about a half-mile!—fill it at the gas station, hop in his car in the faculty lot, then race back to Ryan who was undoubtedly warding off angry drivers, and return to meet my locksmith. This plan went pretty well until we got to Tom’s car, started it up, and headed for the lot exit. It was closed off with a giant padlocked chain. The grim and utterly absurd reality sank in. Three of us. Three cars. ALL out of commission. If memory serves, I believe Ryan’s phone battery was dead as well, so we couldn’t even update him on our plight. How many future army officers does it take to screw in a lightbulb? But I digress.

To make a long story short, Tom and I parked, ran back up the dreaded Exorcist Steps and into the Car Barn. We searched far and wide until we found a janitor who happened to have the keys to the lot padlock and was—praise God—gracious enough to let us out. Tom returned with the gas, and he and Ryan headed back to Catholic U before things could get worse. That left me to wait for the locksmith. He arrived not long after all of this and within minutes he successfully got my Jeep unlocked, handed me my bill with a friendly smile and handshake, and then headed off into the sunset. I stood there for a moment just shaking my head over the whole bizarre chain of events, and casually opened up the bill. It was for $75.

So what’s the point of all this? What lesson did I learn? Well, for one thing, don’t ever borrow a friend’s car without making sure it has gas in it. And while I’m on that point, don’t lend your car to a friend without making sure it has gas in it! Geez, Dan! But in all seriousness, there’s a deeper takeaway here for me. Strictly speaking, Catholics do not believe in the Hindu idea of karma. Karma is deeply connected with the Hindu concept of reincarnation, a belief that is antithetical to Christian revelation. BUT… Scripture, Tradition, and good ole’ human experience reveals to us that there is certainly a prevailing thread that runs through life we would do well to keep in sight. “What goes around, comes around” is an old adage. If I live my life in a way that is marked by selfishness, scheming, and playing by rules I’m making up as I go, there will come a day when the effects of my sins catch up with me. What we do really matters. How we live our lives and the choices we make has consequences. Each one of us has—by God’s design and as an effect of our free will—a real impact on the world around us. We have a responsibility to one another, to duly designated authorities, and ultimately to God. You might be able to weasel your way out of a parking ticket today, but be careful! You will eventually end up in the scales of justice! So let’s reflect today on how we might be able to commit more sincerely to a pattern of behavior marked by honesty, integrity, faith, hope, and love…

And don’t park illegally!