Enter the Ninja

"The Kobudera. Ninja magic. Ninjitsu-to, the ability to seem invisible to cause fear and paralysis in your enemies"

-American Ninja, 1984

The summer of 1992 was by far the hottest summer on record. I remember it was also the year of the great grasshopper infestation. Locusts were everywhere. It was a very bizarre natural phenomenon; the “year of the grasshopper” my friends and I called it. It was a very innocent time really. I was 14 years old. It was the calm before the storm. Long before the women, the drugs, and all of the bullshit drama... there was only our mission in the "year of the grasshopper."

It was the summer my friend Matt and I trained to become costumed crime-fighters... vigilantes. We shared a vision, Matt and I. We dreamed we would rid the streets of drug dealers, car-jackers, and crackheads. We dreamed we’d run along the rooftops armed to the teeth with homemade equipment and ninja masks stopping crime as we encountered it, beating the shit out of criminals, and then tying them up and leaving a nice package for the cops to pick up afterwards.

However, becoming a crime fighter is not an easy task. It involves intense training, focus, and hardship. You must hone your body and mind to physical perfection. Matt and I were quite aware of the implications of getting caught or killed. We were aware of the risks and we were willing to log the hours necessary to attain the required level of skill needed to punish the evildoer’s without getting nabbed by the authorities. Our training routine was intense. Every morning we would get up at six am and jog five miles. I’m a lazy fuck by nature, so getting up early during our summer vacation was definitely a sacrifice. We’d then follow up our run with push-ups and sit-ups. Then we’d jump off Matt’s house repeatedly to improve our “landing” ability. The key was always to roll, like an airborne ranger, and have your body absorb the impact, not your legs. After our landing exercises Matt and I would work on our tumbling and gymnastics. We'd practice breaking into a somersault from a full run. We would also practice "kip-ups" so we could quickly flip up onto our feet from our backs. Plus, it looked flashy in a fight. We’d break for lunch, grilled cheese sandwiches and icey-pops, and then finish the day sparring and meditating. We’d study in the evenings. Matt had an old chemistry book and we were always mixing household chemicals desperate to arrive at the ideal “acid” to throw in an opponents eyes or a combustion reaction that would create a “smokescreen” to allow a quick getaway... that would allow us to fade into the shadows whence we came.

We believed a crime-fighter is only as good as his/her equipment. We handcrafted a lot of our own gear. We actually designed and built a fully functional grappling hook. We’d use our hooks to "grapple" onto the roofs of the elementary school and church in our neighborhood. Matt and I also designed and built our own bolos. A bolo, in case you don’t know, is three balls connected by string and joined at the middle. The purpose is to be tossed at a fleeing opponents feet. The balls will wrap around their ankles and trip them up thus immobilizing them. Matt and I also invested in some “Spy Tech” gear. Spy Tech were really just toys aimed at wide-eyed 13 year-olds, like us, and we knew this, but we thought they might still serve a practical purpose despite the fact they were cheap, plastic junk. For instance, we owned a “sound amplifier” which was a microphone that connected to earphones. As well as a “periscope” device used to look around corners.

There was an army navy surplus store by our neighborhood run by a crazy ex-marine named “Jed.” He was the only other mortal soul who was “in” on our insane plot. He was a very helpful dude. He assisted us in designing and building our own utility belts. We placed pouches and canisters in the optimal spots to insure the speediest access to our equipment. Our equipment included glass vials of homemade acid, silk sacs full of fine sawdust and metal filings to toss in an opponent’s eyes, our bolos, nylon restraints, throwing darts, escrema sticks we’d strap to our backs, climbing claws we bought at the martial arts supply store (ideal for fighting as well as climbing), our hooks, and various other brutal ninja contraptions of our own design we replicated from books about ninjas. “Jed” was a weapons expert. He was always willing to give us honest feedback and always insured we’d get the best price for our money, our allowances were pitiful. Also, it’s worth mentioning Matt and I vowed never to use guns. Like Batman, we believed they were used only by the weak.

We trained for one full month. Our confidence grew. Our skills and understanding of the fighting arts grew. Eventually the time came when we needed to test our skills and our equipment in a “real world” setting….