The content of dark arenas includes topics and subject matter that may not be suitable for all audiences.

The views and opinions expressed in this podcast are solely those of the individuals participating in the podcast

and do not represent those of audio chuck or its employees.

Information discussed by the host in interviewees includes content related to crimes against children, abuse, acts of terrorism and violence.

Listener discretion is advised.

Driving is something many of us have been doing for years, maybe even decades.

It's motor memory, turn the key, put it in gear, check your mirrors, reverse, pull forward.

It's all very autopilot at this point.

But imagine for a moment that you weren't just driving around yourself or even your kids or friends.

Imagine you were chauffeuring the president of the United States, the leader of the free world.

Talk about pressure.

It's like the ultimate driver's skill test every day all over the world.

In today's episode of Dark Arenas, we're going behind the veil into the world of what it's like to work protective detail for the president of the United States,

which includes driving the presidential limousine whenever and wherever you're called.

It was a hot morning in Baltimore, Maryland, as I walked the two blocks from my hotel to a federal courthouse in the heart of downtown.

The government buildings towered above me like massive gray swords sticking right out of the ground.

Sirens didn't stop wailing in the distance, indicating that city life problems were already bustling by nine in the morning.

There were also a lot of transient people and uniform police officers that I saw idling around the intersections, like surprisingly a lot of cops.

I got the distinct feeling that downtown might not be the best place to be walking alone, even on a Monday morning.

I made my journey quick and before I knew it, I passed through two layers of glass doors into the lobby of the federal courthouse.

Three elderly men in matching Navy sports coats met me next to metal detectors and foldable tables.

All of the men weren't a day younger than 65, I'd say. Grandpa types for sure.

...