I was captured by Russians while stationed overseas as an FBI agent. I was taken to their headquarters (a gigantic, old, run-down structure built into the side of a mountain) and locked in a room. Fortunately, I had formerly received intel on this building and knew my way around fairly well. I found a trapdoor in one of the walls that led into a dark, rock-walled tunnel. I followed it down to a subterranean river that flowed under the mountain. As I made my way down to the water’s edge, in the dim light I could see a small rowboat tied on the far side of the river. I looked up to see rotting trusses which must have been placed to stave off a tunnel collapse. I could hear angry voices and hurried footsteps behind me. I jumped up, grabbed the nearest truss, and made my way, monkey-bar style, over to the rowboat. I dropped in and shoved off just as I saw the Russians’ lights hurrying down the tunnel. The river was swift and it wasn’t long before I was in the bright sunlight and on my way back to the city.
Suddenly, I’m back at FBI headquarters in D.C. My friend, Ben (who is apparently in the CIA), finds me in the hallway and explains to me that the entire ordeal had been a training exercise on escape and evasion. We all have a good laugh and then get back to work.