*^*The Graveyard Guard

While Jegat’s night moves in fast forward, security guard David Dolan’s graveyard shift seems to move in slow motion. The Monterey Bay Security employee is spending his evening making sure no one tries to break into the Sunridge Farms warehouses and business offices in north Monterey County.

We are parked in Dolan’s black Isuzu Rodeo, which is adorned with a handful of Oakland Raiders stickers, watching the organic food company’s workers leave the gated compound one by one. Another security patrol driver wanders over to Dolan’s vehicle.

“What’s up, Hacking?” asks Dolan, who has a mustache and a closely cropped head of white hair that resembles the feathers on a baby bird.

“I’m terrible,” Hacking replies. “I can’t even breathe right now.”

While Dolan explains that listening to KPIG is one way he keeps himself entertained at night, Hacking walks towards the back of the Rodeo and starts retching. After a few painful-sounding minutes, Hacking returns.

“Fuck, it hurts,” he says. “I can’t handle migraines anymore.”

“It’s like life,” he continues. “It doesn’t always work out the way you expect it.”

Hacking wanders into the nearby two-lane road that is devoid of any traffic. “I gotta go,” he says to no one in particular, and then hops into his truck and drives away.

From then on, the evening becomes less exciting, which I guess is a good thing if you are a security guard. I accompany Dolan on a perimeter check, making sure that every door in the compound is locked. Things heat up when we discover one unlocked door to a pump room. After we confirm that there’s no one around trying to steal dried organic fruits, we lock up and the excitement recedes to a non-existent level.

While doing the 40-minute perimeter walk, which he will do seven more times this evening before getting off work at 6am, Dolan admits that the graveyard shift is rough when a man has a family. He says he hasn’t seen his son at all in the last few weeks. But, he says, the late-night shift can have its advantages. “The good thing about here is it’s quiet, and you are your own boss,” he says. “Also, you can’t get in trouble for staying out late.”

After leaving Dolan to the rest of his evening, I drive home and get under the covers. It is approaching 3am. The almost full moon outside my window beams down like a stage light on a cast of graveyard shift characters. They keep moving. *^*