I had a conversation with Dan today about a something that happened at school. Ultimately it will be but a little bump in the road that will be a pain for him to rectify. In the grand scheme of things though, this little bump is going to rate as a minor annoyance or a little inconvenience as opposed to a real problem. I mean, we’re not looking for a kidney or anything for him. He’s just going to have to work a little harder for a short while. Listening to Dan talk about what was happening to him made me think of a story that I hadn’t thought of in quite a while.
Anyway, The Boy ran into an issue. He had to approach someone and make a case to rectify the problem. The person he spoke with unfortunately wasn’t about to even consider changing things. Though outwardly compassionate, there wasn’t a chance they were going to budge. This person conceded that Dan might be right, but it didn’t matter. Nothing was going to change.
Dan and I talked about his lack of leverage in the debate. The person he was engaged with held all of the aces and face cards. There was nothing that he was going to say or do that was going to change things. During our discussion I told Dan that he was in a semantic argument and that if he pushed it, and escalated it, and made a real issue out of it, he might be able to win it. I also said that if he did, in the long run he risked losing more than he could potentially gain right now. He could win the battle, but he risked losing the war. That comment made me think of a story from my own college days,
I think I’ve mentioned that I was on the seven year plan for college about a billion times. I went to school for two years, took three years off, then went back and finished up. Dear ol’ Dad carried the burden for the first two years. The last two were all mine. This arraignment had a dramatic impact on me; I use it as an example for a lot of different things all the time. The first two years were Party Time. However, when I was on my dime, it was all business. I went from “Yeah, if this professor doesn’t show up in 30 seconds this class is canceled YAHOOOO!” to “That son of a bitch better show, I’m not paying for him to blow off my class. He doesn’t show up, he owes me $200.00. I'll give him 30 more seconds then I'm gonna go get him.” Grades improved too. It wasn’t like I was on academic probation or anything, but I wasn’t necessarily motivated by grades the first time around either. What about the second time around? Well let’s just say my GPA improved dramatically.
On top of all that I worked full time too. My first year back, I worked two part time jobs. I got to pack groceries with the high school kids and retirees; I also worked for a game company running a paper cutter and drill press. My second year, I worked second shift in the Data Center for the BayBanks. This is actually where/how I started my career. BayBanks was the jumping off point for me. Anyway, the point of all this background is to illustrate the second two years were serious business.
I had to take a communications course. I had the choice of taking Effective Speaking, or Business Communications. I opted for Business Communications because, well frankly, I didn’t want to have to get up in front of the class and give presentations. Boy wasn’t I bummed when I found out the Business Communications class included weekly presentations. Tuesdays we wrote, Thursdays we presented. DAMN.
This was an 8:00 AM class. I hated 8:00 AM classes. I worked until 12:30 AM. 8:00 AM classes therefore came really early. I wasn’t always at my best.
One morning on the way to class, I had a traffic accident. I hadn’t fully woken up yet. I don’t know what I was thinking about when I pulled out in front of the other guy. I saw him. I knew he was there. I just didn’t think to stop. I cut him off huge. The end result? Not a scratch on my car, the other guy was totaled. Needless to say, I missed that class. By 10:00 AM I was in the professor’s office finding out what the assignment was for the next class. Another time my car broke down. I had to have it towed. I was abandoned by the side of the road. I was stranded. I had to try to find a way to campus, from campus to work, and then home again after midnight. Needless to say I missed class again and was back in the professor’s office the following day finding out the assignment. I was sick one day and missed another class. You guessed it, another trip to the professor’s office.
I was doing very well in this class all things considered. The class was all writing and presentation, fairly subjective if you ask me. At midterm I had a very solid “A” going. My lowest score to that point had been a 95.
Shortly after mid terms there was a big snow storm. I was a commuter. I lived 30 minutes from school. At rush hour, the commute was more like an hour and 30 minutes. I left the house extra early the day of the storm. By 9:00 I had made it only half way to school. I turned around and went home. I had missed class again.
The next day I swung by the professors office. He wasn’t there. I waited to talk to him until after class a day later. After class I approached the professor and asked if there was a convenient time for me to swing by and talk about what if any assignment I had missed. We’re at the front of the class room. Now let me tell you about this prick. He was about 30 years old, maybe less. (I was 24 at the time) He wore one of those sporting/shooting tweed jackets. You know, leather patch on one shoulder and both elbows. And he was constantly sucking on an unlit pipe. I don’t know what he thought the pipe did for him, but he always either had it in his hand or in his mouth. It was like his professor prop or something. This guy was like a PBS caricature of an old world English Professor. Anyway, I asked if I could swing by his office. This prick looked at me and said “Well, if you came to class more often then you wouldn’t have to keep coming to my office. You really need to try to be here more regularly. I don’t think I have time, try me next week. Maybe one of your classmates can help you.” He made this comment in front of the entire class and it was just dripping in sarcasm. Sometimes it’s not necessarily the words, but how they are said that conveys the message. I felt about two inches tall. I slaked out of the room. Was trying to maintain my composure, but I was steaming. It was then and there that I decided I would not let this insult go unchallenged.
I had to wait until the following week for the next class. When class finally rolled around again I made sure I sat up front so that I would be in a good position to grab Professor Dipshit the second it ended. I was going to talk to him and I was going to do it publicly,
When class ended, I got into the doorway and asked if I could speak to Professor Prick’nstien. I got in the doorway so that I would block everyone else’s exit. I was embarrassed publicly; I was going to get an apology publicly. So Professor Prickface came over and asked what I wanted to speak to him about. I looked at him and said “You embarrassed me the last class. You did it in front of the class and I don’t appreciate it. You told me that if I came to class regularly then I would be better prepared. I’m not one of these kids whose mommy and daddy are paying for them to come to school. I work so I can come to school. This is coming out of my pocket. I’m not intentionally skipping your class. I’ve been to your office and discussed this with you.” I handed him a copy of the accident report. I then said, “I told you I had a traffic accident on the way to school which caused me to miss a class.” I handed him the towing bill “I told you my car broke down another time, here’s the bill. Oh and by the way, this car is not some junker. I have a new car. It’s less than two years old. (Two truths and a lie. It was a two year old car that I had bought new, but it was a Volari. Ipso facto, it was a piece of junk). I bought it. Mommy and daddy didn’t give it to me like some of the kids in this class. I work to pay for this class and that car and unfortunately, the car broke down which impacted my ability to get to class. I live 30 minutes away and when I have no car, I have no way to get here. Again, I have already told you all this.” I then handed him a copy of the Boston Globe from the day after the storm and said “The day of the storm I left my house over 2 hours early to get to your class. That means I left my house before 6:00 AM to get here. At 9:00 AM I was only half way here. Yes, at that time I decided to turn around and go home. I had been on the road for 3 hours and had already missed class.” The headline of the paper referenced all the traffic delays caused by the storm. I then said “I don’t have an excuse for the day I was sick, you’ll have to take my word for that. I’m not trying to skip your class because it’s inconvenient. I’m paying for this out of my own pocket. Every class I miss is like dropping a match on a pile of cash. It’s like throwing away money that I don’t have. I wish this semester was going smoother. I wish I hadn’t missed so many classes. I’ve have already explained all this to you. That said I don’t appreciate what you said to me or that you said it in front of the entire class. You owe me an apology.”
Again, I was standing in the doorway. Not a sole had left the room. They were all queuing up around me, waiting for me to get out of the door so they could leave. Needless to say, everyone in the room heard this exchange.
Professor Prickman just looked at me wide eyed. His mouth was agape. He was stunned. A second or two went by, and then he regained his composure. I got my apology. He apologized for being insensitive and doing it in front of the class. He offered to speak with me in his office to bring me fully up to date with all assignments. I thanked him but declined his offer.
At this point I left the classroom. I felt good. I had been publicly slighted. I had gotten a public apology. As far as I was concerned, the matter was closed.
For the rest of the semester, the best grade I got on anything I wrote was a “D”. Professor Prickmeister was kind of brutal in his critiques of my presentations too.
YES, I had won the battle. (Yeaaaa) OH NO, I had lost the war. (Booooooo) I had gotten my public apology. But this class wasn't going to help my GPA any.
Lesson learned. Sometimes the best thing to do is just let things alone and make the best of what you’ve got. Had I just kept my mouth shut, I probably would have kept my “A”. We'll never know. Up until the doorway discussion with Super Prick (Dauntless Defender of Conceit) this class had been fairly easy. Afterwards, not so much. What did I say about it earlier? Grading was kinda subjective? Let's just say the Anti-Professor was no longer looking kindly on what I wrote or presented. Hopefully, Dan the Man gains some perspective from this anecdote. Yeah, he could probably make a really good case for himself in the semantic debate he’s embroiled in. He might even spin it such that he prevails in this one argument. Unfortunately, there’s no way for him to win the war. He's got no leverage. What was it the WOPR said? “Strange game Professor Faulken, the only winning move is not to play.”
I was once talking to my father about a similar situation to Dan's. Mine was work related. I was bound and determined prove to the boss I was right. Dad’s only comment at the time was “You’ll be the rightest man on the unemployment line.” Words of wisdom. Sometimes you just gotta know when to fold’em.
Good luck Dan.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Shhh, Don’t Tell Caity
I made my daughter a promise. I SWORE to her I would never tell the story I’m about to tell. She made me promise. She also made me a promise. She vowed that if ever I told this story that she wouldn’t talk to me anymore. Actually, what she promised is much worse than that. I’m just afraid to say it. So everyone, it’s very important that NOBODY tell Caitlin that I’ve written this.
I bunch of years ago I was at my brother’s house. He was getting ready to move and I was lending a hand. He was cleaning out a bunch of stuff and preparing the house to sell it, or rent it or whatever he was going to do with it. As we were wrapping up the day we were moving a bunch of air conditioners. Conversation moved to questions about what he was going to do with them. He was headed south. The house he had bought already had central air. He didn’t need these window units. Rather than just throw them in the junk, he offered them to me. Rather than spend the rest of the summer sweltering, I accepted. Very quickly before he could change his mind I scooped them up and put them in the car. I threw the big one in the trunk and the little one on the back seat, where the kids were supposed to sit. Hey they were little too, they could squeeze in around it.
It got to be about 6:00 and it was time to head home. My brother had things to do that night and I was getting tired. We bid each other adieu and Lisa, the kids and I headed home. We were on the highway on our way home when the bright idea of heading to the movies stuck us. It was opening day for the Will Smith movie, “Independence day.” We’re debating whether or not we could even make the next showing and trying to figure out how to buy the tickets over the phone.
So Lisa and I are in the front seat fumbling for cell phones and credit cards when Caity started shouting that there was a bee in the back seat. Being the doting parent that I can be, I told her to leave the bee alone. She was now whining about being afraid of the bee. We told her to be quiet.
So we’re on the phone trying to buy the tickets and Cait’s in the back seat raising holy hell. She’s was like “Daaaaaad, there are bees back here.” I’m like, “Weeeeeelllllllll, then open the window and let them out.” Eventually I asked Dan if he saw any bees. His response was “No.” I should have known not to trust him.
About the time we pulled into the parking lot at the movies Cait was REALLY beginning to squirm and complain. By this time I was getting irritated. I’m just, “Hold on, you can get out of the car in a minute.”
We parked the car and I went around back to see what the problem was. Caity was still complaining about the bees. I opened the door and sure enough there was a bee in the back seat. It was without a doubt the smallest, tiniest, most miniscule bee I had ever seen. I brushed it away and started to chide Caity about being such a baby. Then I saw another one, then another. I changed gears now. Now I was trying to get Caitlin out of the car as quickly and as calmly as possible. I unbuckled her and hustled her out of the car. I looked at Dan and told him to roll his window down so the bees cold get out, then to get himself out of the car as quickly as possible.
Now, Caitlin’s about 10 years old at the time and she’s only about 5 feet tall. I rolled her window down a couple of inches and closed her door. As I turned to head towards the movies I had a nice view of the top of her head. I looked down and on the top of her head I thought I saw a bee. I brushed it away. Then another bee showed up. I brushed that away too. Then I noticed that all the bees seemed to be landing on her head and crawling through her hair. I don’t know what kind of conditioner she was using but boy oh boy the bees seemed to like it. The longer we stood there, the more bees landed on her head.
Now I’m starting to get excited. I grabbed her by the arm and said, “Caitlin, RUN!!!” Cait was like “What?” I’m like “RUN!!!!” She’s like “Where?” I’m Like “ANYWHERE!!!!” She’s like “Why” I’m like “CUZ THERE ARE BEES IN YOUR HAIR, TRUST ME JUST RUN!!!!” With that Caitlin took off.
Caitlin let out a scream and headed for the hills. I’ve never seen her move so fast. She took off dragging a cloud of bees behind her. I took off in hot pursuit. I started trying to brush the bees off her. She’s running as fast as she can, in a straight line, as far as she can. Me, I’m chasing after her swatting at the bees in her hair..
So, there I was, to the rest of the world I was some strange guy chasing a screaming 10 year old girl through the parking lot whacking her on the head. She's yelling and crying, I’m yelling for her to run faster, she’s flailing her arms, I’m hitting her on the head. It was quite the scene. Eventually I got all the bees out of her hair and she stopped running. I comforted her as best I could, took her by the hand and headed back toward the car.
I turned around and saw about 50 people forming a semi circle around us. It’s like they were trying to keep us from running away or something. And no one was smiling. A whole bunch of people apparently had started running after us. A couple of the guys looked like they were ready for some business. I’ve got Caity by the hand and she’s crying. I’m trying to tell people what had happened. Nobody is talking to me; everyone is asking Cait if she’s OK. When she composed herself enough to talk all she said was “I got stung.” To this day I contend that that simple comment kept me from being in some SERIOUS trouble with the crowd that had encircled us. Believe it or not there was a woman in the crowd that actually had some bee sting cream. Lisa and Cait went to her car. I stood by my car surrounded by a group of cranky looking guys. It was quite apparent they were keeping me from leaving. Apparently a fully grown man chasing a little girl yelling at her and whacking her on the head makes some people nervous and suspicious . People didn’t seem to relax until Caitlin came back and gave me a big hug then took my hand and headed to the theater. We walked in with a crowd of people.
We went into the movie. Caity got any anything she wanted this day. Popcorn, candy, soda, Ice Cream, anything to make her feel better. We found out later the air conditioner in the trunk had a big bee’s nest in the coils. The only lasting effect from this day was that Caitlin now has a phobia about bees. You want to hear her scream, say bee to her.
She was upstairs over the garage playing video games just this past summer. I was downstairs watching TV. She came down stairs and said, “Hey dad, can you get the bat?” I’m like “Bat, what bat, why do you need a bat? She said “no, no, no, you don’t understand. I need you to get rid of the bat that’s flying around up there. I’m trying to play my game and it’s bothering me.” Sure enough, I went upstairs and there was a bat flying around. My skin started to crawl. I wanted to scream like a little girl. Caitlin was just standing there going “Come on dad hurry up, I didn’t save my game.” I’m doing everything in my power to try and look calm in front of my daughter and she’s getting mad because the bat is disrupting her game. I went down stairs and opened the door. Cait just stood there and watched the bat. She's like "Hey dad, when are you going to get rid of this thing. I said "Give it a minute, it will fly out the door. Eventually the bat flew downstairs, Caitlin followed. The bat is now flying around the family room, Cait is standing in the middle of the room watching the bat and starting to get irritated that I haven't taken care of this yet. I went into the other room and started peeking around the corner to see if it would just fly away. Eventually the bat flew out the open door. When it was all over Caitlin just looked at me and asked, "So why did you go running to the other room.? A bat won't hurt you." I responded "Noooooo, I was blocking the other doorway to keep it from flying around the rest of the house. She rolled her eyes and replied "Yeah, right" then headed back upstairs to her game. Oh sure, a creepy crawly, disease infested bat that will fly into your hair then try to use it's razor sharp teeth to bite you on the neck in an obsessive, compulsive quest to turn you into an unworldly creature of the night is no big deal. But a tiny flower pollenating, honey producing, birds and bees love inspiring, cute little, fuzzy little cuddly little bee sends her screaming from the room.
Seriously now, don’t tell Caitlin I posted this. If she finds out I’m in BIG trouble. Actually, I’ve been telling her I was going to post it. She won’t be surprised. She’s gonna be mad, but not surprised. Oh well, such is the price of fame. Or is that infamy? I get that confused.
I bunch of years ago I was at my brother’s house. He was getting ready to move and I was lending a hand. He was cleaning out a bunch of stuff and preparing the house to sell it, or rent it or whatever he was going to do with it. As we were wrapping up the day we were moving a bunch of air conditioners. Conversation moved to questions about what he was going to do with them. He was headed south. The house he had bought already had central air. He didn’t need these window units. Rather than just throw them in the junk, he offered them to me. Rather than spend the rest of the summer sweltering, I accepted. Very quickly before he could change his mind I scooped them up and put them in the car. I threw the big one in the trunk and the little one on the back seat, where the kids were supposed to sit. Hey they were little too, they could squeeze in around it.
It got to be about 6:00 and it was time to head home. My brother had things to do that night and I was getting tired. We bid each other adieu and Lisa, the kids and I headed home. We were on the highway on our way home when the bright idea of heading to the movies stuck us. It was opening day for the Will Smith movie, “Independence day.” We’re debating whether or not we could even make the next showing and trying to figure out how to buy the tickets over the phone.
So Lisa and I are in the front seat fumbling for cell phones and credit cards when Caity started shouting that there was a bee in the back seat. Being the doting parent that I can be, I told her to leave the bee alone. She was now whining about being afraid of the bee. We told her to be quiet.
So we’re on the phone trying to buy the tickets and Cait’s in the back seat raising holy hell. She’s was like “Daaaaaad, there are bees back here.” I’m like, “Weeeeeelllllllll, then open the window and let them out.” Eventually I asked Dan if he saw any bees. His response was “No.” I should have known not to trust him.
About the time we pulled into the parking lot at the movies Cait was REALLY beginning to squirm and complain. By this time I was getting irritated. I’m just, “Hold on, you can get out of the car in a minute.”
We parked the car and I went around back to see what the problem was. Caity was still complaining about the bees. I opened the door and sure enough there was a bee in the back seat. It was without a doubt the smallest, tiniest, most miniscule bee I had ever seen. I brushed it away and started to chide Caity about being such a baby. Then I saw another one, then another. I changed gears now. Now I was trying to get Caitlin out of the car as quickly and as calmly as possible. I unbuckled her and hustled her out of the car. I looked at Dan and told him to roll his window down so the bees cold get out, then to get himself out of the car as quickly as possible.
Now, Caitlin’s about 10 years old at the time and she’s only about 5 feet tall. I rolled her window down a couple of inches and closed her door. As I turned to head towards the movies I had a nice view of the top of her head. I looked down and on the top of her head I thought I saw a bee. I brushed it away. Then another bee showed up. I brushed that away too. Then I noticed that all the bees seemed to be landing on her head and crawling through her hair. I don’t know what kind of conditioner she was using but boy oh boy the bees seemed to like it. The longer we stood there, the more bees landed on her head.
Now I’m starting to get excited. I grabbed her by the arm and said, “Caitlin, RUN!!!” Cait was like “What?” I’m like “RUN!!!!” She’s like “Where?” I’m Like “ANYWHERE!!!!” She’s like “Why” I’m like “CUZ THERE ARE BEES IN YOUR HAIR, TRUST ME JUST RUN!!!!” With that Caitlin took off.
Caitlin let out a scream and headed for the hills. I’ve never seen her move so fast. She took off dragging a cloud of bees behind her. I took off in hot pursuit. I started trying to brush the bees off her. She’s running as fast as she can, in a straight line, as far as she can. Me, I’m chasing after her swatting at the bees in her hair..
So, there I was, to the rest of the world I was some strange guy chasing a screaming 10 year old girl through the parking lot whacking her on the head. She's yelling and crying, I’m yelling for her to run faster, she’s flailing her arms, I’m hitting her on the head. It was quite the scene. Eventually I got all the bees out of her hair and she stopped running. I comforted her as best I could, took her by the hand and headed back toward the car.
I turned around and saw about 50 people forming a semi circle around us. It’s like they were trying to keep us from running away or something. And no one was smiling. A whole bunch of people apparently had started running after us. A couple of the guys looked like they were ready for some business. I’ve got Caity by the hand and she’s crying. I’m trying to tell people what had happened. Nobody is talking to me; everyone is asking Cait if she’s OK. When she composed herself enough to talk all she said was “I got stung.” To this day I contend that that simple comment kept me from being in some SERIOUS trouble with the crowd that had encircled us. Believe it or not there was a woman in the crowd that actually had some bee sting cream. Lisa and Cait went to her car. I stood by my car surrounded by a group of cranky looking guys. It was quite apparent they were keeping me from leaving. Apparently a fully grown man chasing a little girl yelling at her and whacking her on the head makes some people nervous and suspicious . People didn’t seem to relax until Caitlin came back and gave me a big hug then took my hand and headed to the theater. We walked in with a crowd of people.
We went into the movie. Caity got any anything she wanted this day. Popcorn, candy, soda, Ice Cream, anything to make her feel better. We found out later the air conditioner in the trunk had a big bee’s nest in the coils. The only lasting effect from this day was that Caitlin now has a phobia about bees. You want to hear her scream, say bee to her.
She was upstairs over the garage playing video games just this past summer. I was downstairs watching TV. She came down stairs and said, “Hey dad, can you get the bat?” I’m like “Bat, what bat, why do you need a bat? She said “no, no, no, you don’t understand. I need you to get rid of the bat that’s flying around up there. I’m trying to play my game and it’s bothering me.” Sure enough, I went upstairs and there was a bat flying around. My skin started to crawl. I wanted to scream like a little girl. Caitlin was just standing there going “Come on dad hurry up, I didn’t save my game.” I’m doing everything in my power to try and look calm in front of my daughter and she’s getting mad because the bat is disrupting her game. I went down stairs and opened the door. Cait just stood there and watched the bat. She's like "Hey dad, when are you going to get rid of this thing. I said "Give it a minute, it will fly out the door. Eventually the bat flew downstairs, Caitlin followed. The bat is now flying around the family room, Cait is standing in the middle of the room watching the bat and starting to get irritated that I haven't taken care of this yet. I went into the other room and started peeking around the corner to see if it would just fly away. Eventually the bat flew out the open door. When it was all over Caitlin just looked at me and asked, "So why did you go running to the other room.? A bat won't hurt you." I responded "Noooooo, I was blocking the other doorway to keep it from flying around the rest of the house. She rolled her eyes and replied "Yeah, right" then headed back upstairs to her game. Oh sure, a creepy crawly, disease infested bat that will fly into your hair then try to use it's razor sharp teeth to bite you on the neck in an obsessive, compulsive quest to turn you into an unworldly creature of the night is no big deal. But a tiny flower pollenating, honey producing, birds and bees love inspiring, cute little, fuzzy little cuddly little bee sends her screaming from the room.
Seriously now, don’t tell Caitlin I posted this. If she finds out I’m in BIG trouble. Actually, I’ve been telling her I was going to post it. She won’t be surprised. She’s gonna be mad, but not surprised. Oh well, such is the price of fame. Or is that infamy? I get that confused.
Monday, February 14, 2011
California Screaming
All the leaves are brown (Actually, all the leaves were still pretty green, the hillsides were all brown though)
And the sky is grey (In reality, the sky was brown too, have you ever been to California?)
I've been for a walk (Wellllllll, not really, it was more like a pretty long drive)
On a winter's day (Ooops, strike 4, it was actually the beginning of July)
Oh well, let’s pretend the song fits better.
Today I’m going to finish telling the epic tale of a business trip to California. I started the tale last February. I already talked about my co-worker telling the customer to SHUUUTTTTTTT UPPPPPPPPPPP!!! and being unreachable for most of the day while the customer stroked out over something simple. I just thought I’d wrap up the topic and finish by telling the rest of the story.
If anyone recalls there was this big project out in California that was scheduled to take the entire weekend. We were so efficient in our implementation that we wrapped up the project in just a handful of hours. As a result, we (When I say we, I mean the JJWild team, there were three of us working this project.) had a fair amount of time to kill for the remainder of the weekend. One guy bailed on us 10 seconds after we completed the conversion Friday night. Only my Friend Mikey stuck around for the rest of the weekend’s adventures.
We got up bright and early Saturday afternoon. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get breakfast in the hotel at 2:00 PM? Anyway, after we ate we entered into a very intense debate regarding our entertainment options for the rest of the day. Though not word for word, it went kinda like this: SOOOOO, what do you want to do? I don’t know, what do you want to do? I don’t know, that’s why I asked you, what do you want to do? I don’t know I’m not from around here what do YOU want to do? Don’t ask me, anything is fine, what do you want to do? You’re being a pain in the ass, just tell me what you want to do. You’ve been here before, what do you usually do? I don’t usually do anything, just gimme an idea of what you’d like to do. Etc. Etc. Etc. I had been going out to California for the better part of two years. I never spent one second doing anything other than working or sitting in a restaurant. I didn’t have a clue how best to entertain myself for the rest of the weekend, other than of course sitting in a bar. I’d never had that kind of time before. In hind sight sitting in the bar may have been the better thing to do.
Eventually Mikey and I decided to jump in the car and head out, something would strike us. If we had only known how prophetic that thought actually was we probably would have stayed home. We got in the car and just drove off. We were out cruising around Monterey when we saw signs for 17 Mile Drive. What the heck, it is a touristy thing to do and we’re tourists today so let’s cruise down 17 Mile Drive. So we headed off on an adventure. The drive was really pretty, lots of exotic trees and plants and expensive stuff you don’t see at home. I kept looking at Mikey and saying “Boy, this would be a really great drive if I was doing it with Lisa and not you.” Mike's response was "Well, think about how I feel, I have to do it with YOU!!!" 17 Mile Drive drops you out at Pebble Beach. COOOL! So we drove around Pebble Beach for a while. We then stumbled into Carmel. Double COOOOL! Let’s go look for Clint Eastwood’s Restaurant. There was one flaw in that plan; we didn’t know the name of the restaurant or where it actually was.
Eventually we found our way over to California State Route 1 aka the Pacific Coast Highway. NICE. As we were debating whether or not we should take a cruise on the PCH Mikey spotted a sign. The sign said “Road Closed 63 miles ahead, seek alternate route.” With that, Mikey got all excited. On Thursday we were talking to the customer. The topic was all of the environmental concerns to be addressed in California. One of the things we discussed was all the landslides that had taken place so far that year. The customer related a story about how recently there was a slide and when the road crews were working to repair it, a second slide occurred and pushed a bulldozer right off a cliff and into the ocean. Mikey read the sign and said “That must be what Tom (the customer) was talking about, I’ve never seen a landslide. Let’s go see it.”
We were off. We now had a purpose. We were on an adventure, a mission, a quest. We had something to do. No more aimlessly wondering around, we had a destination.
We headed out full of anticipation and glee. The PCH really is amazing, a wonderful drive. The view is spectacular. The road is windy (or windy take your pick) It serpentines along the face of the mountains/cliffs. To the left was hillside, to the right a 1000 foot drop off to the rocks and Pacific Ocean below. We drove along for what seemed like hours. 50 miles to the road closing, road closed in 35 miles, end of the road in 10 miles, road closed 2 miles ahead. Funny thing, once you get on this road, there really isn’t a lot of opportunity to get off. Eventually we rounded a corner and there it was, the end of the road. Well, it really wasn’t the end; it was really just where the road washout was. You couldn’t miss it, HUGE barricades blocking the road with a large sign that said ROAD CLOSED. A BIG swatch of the road was missing behind the barricades.
There was a little convenience/general store almost right at the slide. The barricades can’t have been 50 feet past the parking lot entrance to the store. It was a touristy kind of mom and pop place. You know, stuffed grizzly bear out front, rocking chairs made out of bent tree branches, arrowheads, toy guns, maps and lapel pins. All the stuff you need to attract the tired tourist. Mikey and I pulled in for a break, a Coke and to figure out how to get back without having to backtrack all the way we had just come.
Mike was driving so he was getting directions. I was drinking my Coke and watching the traffic go by. Everybody seemed to be just pulling around the barricades and continuing to drive on. Nobody stopped. Nobody pulled over. Heck, some didn’t even slow down. They just drove around the blockade and pressed on. So I’m watching the traffic and looking at a map on the wall. Mike came over and said we had no choice but to backtrack. I looked at the map and said that it looked like in about a mile we could jump on Rte. XYZ, cut through the mountains and end up on Highway ABC. Then we could head back to Monterey. It had to be faster than backtracking 3 hours up the PCH, through Pebble Beach, and down 17 Mile Drive. Mike was like, “You are nutz, and look the road is closed”. I’m like “Yeah, sooooo. Everyone is just going around the barricade we can too.” Mike’s response was “No way’. I’m like “Ya Huh” . Mike’s like “Nuh ah” As we were arguing about crossing the wash out, a car drove past, around the barricades and crossed over. I said to Mike,” Look, the wash out is less than a quarter of a mile long. Everyone is doing it, we can too.” Mike looks at me and says, “Just because one car …….” Just then another car headed through on our end and a car started through from the other side. Mike just looked at me and said, “OK, let’s go”. The woman behind the counter was just standing there shaking her head.
So we got in the car and headed over to the washout. We pulled up to the edge of the pavement and Mike stopped. He looked at me and said “I can’t go in there”. I responded “Stop being a baby look, everyone else is doing it.” Mike responded something about all the ruts and boulders in the road and pointed out that there was at least a 4 inch drop off between the pavement and the dirt. I just looked at him and said “Stop being a baby. It’s a rental car. What do you care? A rental car will go anywhere. Look all those other cars have gone through. Stop being a wimp and lets go. It will save us at least an hour on our ride back.” Mike just looked at me shrugged his shoulders and plowed ahead. He dropped off the pavement with a heavy THUD on the frame.
Mike had pulled about 50 feet into the washout when he stopped. I looked at him and asked what the matter was. He said “Look Joe, the hillside, it’s still moving.” I looked over but I couldn’t see anything. I said stop being such a crybaby and let’s go. Mike responded that he wasn’t going anywhere while the Hillside was moving. I looked again and saw it, a little slide. It couldn’t have been much wider than a pencil. A little bit of gravel was trickling down the hillside. I just looked at Mike and told him that had he kept moving he would already be past this area and there would be nothing to worry about. Mike again responded about the ruts. As he was talking a car passed us. I just said, “Hey Mike, follow him.” Mike said “I can’t.” I asked why not. Mike responded “Because he’s in a truck he can just go over the ruts they are too deep for this car. I just said, “Stop whining, drive between the ruts then, let’s go.” All of a sudden it dawned on him. Mike looked at me and said “You stupid idiot, everybody else is in a truck or an SUV. Those things are all 4 wheel drive. We’re in a damn Chevy Malibu we can’t go through there. Why did I let you talk me into this." I just laughed and said, “Well I guess this goes to prove it, a rental car WILL go anywhere, come on, let’s go.”
So Mike put it in gear again and pulled forward maybe twenty feet before stomping on the brakes. I looked at him and said “what now?” Mike said LOOK, IT’S GETTING WORSE.” I looked out the windshield. The little trickle was maybe now a little stream. The gravel was now small rocks and every now and then one the size of a grapefruit would roll past. I just looked at Mike. This time being as forceful as I could be I said “Look, if you would just go we would be past all this and on our way. Mike said something about damaging the car. Again I told him that we were in a rental, and a rental goes anywhere. What? Was he afraid of denting it? Who cares? It’s not his car. Stop being a fraidy-cat and let’s go. Mike finally stepped off the brake, the car almost moved then he stood on the brakes again. I just looked at him and said “’what now?” He just pointed and said “LOOK.” I looked forward, the little stream of dirt was now a small river pouring down the hillside. Now the small rocks were the size of grapefruits, big ones where the size of a laundry basket. I was right in the middle of telling Mike to go on when the first boulder came crashing down. This thing was the size of a washing machine. Then another came down, then a third. Mike threw it into reverse and said “Screw you; I’m getting out of here.” He put the pedal to the metal and stopped worring about the ruts as he raced out backwards Remember the 4 inch drop off to get from the pavement to the dirt? He slammed back onto the pavement with another very heavy couple of THUDs. I think he broke the road. We didn't look to see if he bent the car.
The ride back to the hotel took in excess of two hours. Closer to three in actuality. The PCH is not much fun in the dark. You really can’t see the ocean, or the trees, or Pebble Peach in the pitch black. The headlights punched holes in the darkness, all you could see was what was in their light. The rest was utter blackness. No street lights, no house lights, and at that time of day, no other head lights. My Fiend Mikey spent most of the ride questioning my sanity and wondering why he listens to me. He really should have been questioning himself. After all, he was the one driving. It's not like I could MAKE him try to cross the washed out road. I just proposed an idea, he ran with it. What was it mother used to say? “If your friends told you to light yourself on fire and jump off the roof would you do it?” Same thing really, it’s his own fault.
I still contend that had he just gone for it we would have been through. He's been telling people I tried to kill him ever since. The big crybaby.
When we got back to the hotel is when all the phones and pagers started going off. For anyone that forgets what happened next see “All in a Day’s Work”, February 24, 2010 for a refresher.
So Saturday was surreal. The day started fine in the middle and then fell apart on both ends. Sunday just had to be better.
So Sunday we got up BEFORE noon. Nice. We had a reasonable breakfast at a reasonable time. It was civilized, just like the rest of the day is going to be.
We were sitting around at breakfast debating the day’s activity. A recurring theme began to arise. We needed to see trees, tall trees, trees you could drive through. So a plan was hatched, we were headed out to find a really tall red tree that we could drive through. We had headed south on Saturday. No drive through trees in that direction. Sunday we’re heading North.
As we were leaving the Hotel we were told about the Garlic Festival. Garlic Festival? Sounds weird, but what the heck, it’s been a weird weekend already. Plans were modified so we could swing by and attend the festival.
We jumped into the car and headed north. We were headed for The Festival. It was north, we were going north. Why not? I was unaware of this but California is a large garlic producer. Who knew? Well, I suppose a lot of people did, but I didn’t. I’m going to skip a head a little. The bottom line is we skipped the garlic festival. We weren’t within 2 miles of the place and the smell was overpowering. We could see it off in the distance but we decided not to attend. CRAP, the car and my clothes smelled like garlic the rest of the day. Amazing really when you consider we never actually made it there.
We re-launched our quest to find a Redwood tree we could drive through (Giant Sequoia?).
As we headed north we kept seeing signs for the Mystery Spot. It was everywhere. Bill boards, highway signs (28 miles to the Mystery Spot) bumper stickers. Everywhere we looked it seemed like there was another advertisement for the Mystery Spot. Curiosity being what it is, eventually we decided we just had to see it.
We got off the highway and drove miles and miles through the woods until eventually TA DA we found the Mystery Spot. It was $15.00 to get in. $15.00 a piece that is. A little pricy but what the heck, we’re there now. Before we were allowed into the Mystery Spot we were told a story. We told about how this spot was found in the 1800’s and how gravity and time don’t work the same there. Compasses spin wildly out of control, watches run backwards, water runs uphill. Even the trees don’t grow straight there. This phenomenon has been unexplainable by scientists for over a hundred years. We’re told that if we start to feel dizzy, or faint or nauseous we should let somebody know so that we can be immediately evacuated from the area,
So we marched up to the mystery spot in a small group of about 30 people. All of a sudden there it was, a giant sink hole that nature has started to reclaim. You could see where the trees had started to topple into the hole then stopped, and continued to grow right where they ended up. Over the hole was one of those crooked houses. You know what I mean? All of the doors and windows and frames and sills and handrails etc were crooked. They are deliberately crooked. You know the old adage; there was a crooked man who had a crooked house? It was that house. To show the odd effects the Mystery Spot had on metallic objects they did an experiment with a plumb line. Sure enough, when they dangled the weight on the end of the line, it hung crooked. Or maybe it just looked crooked because there wasn’t a level or even line in the place to compare it with. Then they showed how a ball would roll uphill. OH MY GOD NO, not UPHILL!! (Doodlely doodley do do do) Anyone that has been to the children’s museum has seen this one. Again, it was another optical delusion. The whole freak'n place was nothing but an optical delusion.
I walked out of the mystery place feeling violated. I guess there is a sucker born every minute. I guess this time it was me and Mikey. I realized that there really was a mystery there. It wasn’t balls rolling uphill or trees growing crooked. No, the mystery was, how the hell did I let myself get suckered into paying $15.00 to see a sink hole?
We walked out of the Mystery Spot and we were laughing. We were laughing at us. We started talking to one of the “guides”. While we were talking to this person we asked where we had to go to see a tree we could drive through. The guide looked at us like we were from Mars or something and asked "Why? What do you wan to do THAT for?" We had a long lovely conversation about our being out of towners and how we had never seen even one of them tall trees. After about a 15 minute conversaton the guide finally said "I think you have to go Oregon to see that." We had to ask, so we did. What the hell, we were already committed and there was nothing else to do this day. We asked, “So how long will it take us to drive there?” Now, we’re from New England, in three hours we could pass through 3 states. The west coast is California, Oregon and Washington. How long could it possibly take? The guide looked at as and said “Oh I’m not sure, two days?”
We left the Mystery Spot a combined $30.00 poorer and a little dejected. No tree driving on this trip. It was getting late anyway. We decided to head back.
We headed back and were driving along the coast looking at the ocean. We were about an hour from the hotel. I kept looking at the ocean, marveling that there was no one on the beach. I convinced my friend Mikey (see he's corruptable, very easily given to suggestion)that we should pull over and take advantage of the sand and surf. After all, in all my trips to California I had never even set foot on the beach let alone stuck so much as a toe in the water. We parked the car and headed to the shore. We got down to the water line when I decided that I might never have another opportunity. I kicked off my shoes, rolled up my pants and headed into the surf.
I waded into the Pacific. It was Faaaaahhhhhh-reezing. Kind of like the water in Maine in early May. YIKES. What the heck, this was a one off event. I was gonna make the best of it. I headed in. I was up to about my knees when a jogger headed by. On his way by he looked over and said. “You might want to come out of there.” I responded, “Why? Cuz its cold?” and made a crack about being from New England. As the jogger headed off he looked over his shoulder and said “Nope, the sharks start coming to feed about this time of day. See the seals on the rocks over there?” He pointed to a small seal colony about 100 yards or so further out. Then he disappeared down the beach.
So, I climbed out of the water, put my shoes back on and went back to the hotel. I was headed to the bar. This fun filled day of California dream’n was officially over. Luckily, on Monday so was the trip.
Tell the truth, who’s luckier than me? Well, maybe Mikey is. Anyway, this weekend went smooth as a baby’s butt. Of course you have to remember, a baby’s butt is sometimes covered in poop.
And the sky is grey (In reality, the sky was brown too, have you ever been to California?)
I've been for a walk (Wellllllll, not really, it was more like a pretty long drive)
On a winter's day (Ooops, strike 4, it was actually the beginning of July)
Oh well, let’s pretend the song fits better.
Today I’m going to finish telling the epic tale of a business trip to California. I started the tale last February. I already talked about my co-worker telling the customer to SHUUUTTTTTTT UPPPPPPPPPPP!!! and being unreachable for most of the day while the customer stroked out over something simple. I just thought I’d wrap up the topic and finish by telling the rest of the story.
If anyone recalls there was this big project out in California that was scheduled to take the entire weekend. We were so efficient in our implementation that we wrapped up the project in just a handful of hours. As a result, we (When I say we, I mean the JJWild team, there were three of us working this project.) had a fair amount of time to kill for the remainder of the weekend. One guy bailed on us 10 seconds after we completed the conversion Friday night. Only my Friend Mikey stuck around for the rest of the weekend’s adventures.
We got up bright and early Saturday afternoon. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get breakfast in the hotel at 2:00 PM? Anyway, after we ate we entered into a very intense debate regarding our entertainment options for the rest of the day. Though not word for word, it went kinda like this: SOOOOO, what do you want to do? I don’t know, what do you want to do? I don’t know, that’s why I asked you, what do you want to do? I don’t know I’m not from around here what do YOU want to do? Don’t ask me, anything is fine, what do you want to do? You’re being a pain in the ass, just tell me what you want to do. You’ve been here before, what do you usually do? I don’t usually do anything, just gimme an idea of what you’d like to do. Etc. Etc. Etc. I had been going out to California for the better part of two years. I never spent one second doing anything other than working or sitting in a restaurant. I didn’t have a clue how best to entertain myself for the rest of the weekend, other than of course sitting in a bar. I’d never had that kind of time before. In hind sight sitting in the bar may have been the better thing to do.
Eventually Mikey and I decided to jump in the car and head out, something would strike us. If we had only known how prophetic that thought actually was we probably would have stayed home. We got in the car and just drove off. We were out cruising around Monterey when we saw signs for 17 Mile Drive. What the heck, it is a touristy thing to do and we’re tourists today so let’s cruise down 17 Mile Drive. So we headed off on an adventure. The drive was really pretty, lots of exotic trees and plants and expensive stuff you don’t see at home. I kept looking at Mikey and saying “Boy, this would be a really great drive if I was doing it with Lisa and not you.” Mike's response was "Well, think about how I feel, I have to do it with YOU!!!" 17 Mile Drive drops you out at Pebble Beach. COOOL! So we drove around Pebble Beach for a while. We then stumbled into Carmel. Double COOOOL! Let’s go look for Clint Eastwood’s Restaurant. There was one flaw in that plan; we didn’t know the name of the restaurant or where it actually was.
Eventually we found our way over to California State Route 1 aka the Pacific Coast Highway. NICE. As we were debating whether or not we should take a cruise on the PCH Mikey spotted a sign. The sign said “Road Closed 63 miles ahead, seek alternate route.” With that, Mikey got all excited. On Thursday we were talking to the customer. The topic was all of the environmental concerns to be addressed in California. One of the things we discussed was all the landslides that had taken place so far that year. The customer related a story about how recently there was a slide and when the road crews were working to repair it, a second slide occurred and pushed a bulldozer right off a cliff and into the ocean. Mikey read the sign and said “That must be what Tom (the customer) was talking about, I’ve never seen a landslide. Let’s go see it.”
We were off. We now had a purpose. We were on an adventure, a mission, a quest. We had something to do. No more aimlessly wondering around, we had a destination.
We headed out full of anticipation and glee. The PCH really is amazing, a wonderful drive. The view is spectacular. The road is windy (or windy take your pick) It serpentines along the face of the mountains/cliffs. To the left was hillside, to the right a 1000 foot drop off to the rocks and Pacific Ocean below. We drove along for what seemed like hours. 50 miles to the road closing, road closed in 35 miles, end of the road in 10 miles, road closed 2 miles ahead. Funny thing, once you get on this road, there really isn’t a lot of opportunity to get off. Eventually we rounded a corner and there it was, the end of the road. Well, it really wasn’t the end; it was really just where the road washout was. You couldn’t miss it, HUGE barricades blocking the road with a large sign that said ROAD CLOSED. A BIG swatch of the road was missing behind the barricades.
There was a little convenience/general store almost right at the slide. The barricades can’t have been 50 feet past the parking lot entrance to the store. It was a touristy kind of mom and pop place. You know, stuffed grizzly bear out front, rocking chairs made out of bent tree branches, arrowheads, toy guns, maps and lapel pins. All the stuff you need to attract the tired tourist. Mikey and I pulled in for a break, a Coke and to figure out how to get back without having to backtrack all the way we had just come.
Mike was driving so he was getting directions. I was drinking my Coke and watching the traffic go by. Everybody seemed to be just pulling around the barricades and continuing to drive on. Nobody stopped. Nobody pulled over. Heck, some didn’t even slow down. They just drove around the blockade and pressed on. So I’m watching the traffic and looking at a map on the wall. Mike came over and said we had no choice but to backtrack. I looked at the map and said that it looked like in about a mile we could jump on Rte. XYZ, cut through the mountains and end up on Highway ABC. Then we could head back to Monterey. It had to be faster than backtracking 3 hours up the PCH, through Pebble Beach, and down 17 Mile Drive. Mike was like, “You are nutz, and look the road is closed”. I’m like “Yeah, sooooo. Everyone is just going around the barricade we can too.” Mike’s response was “No way’. I’m like “Ya Huh” . Mike’s like “Nuh ah” As we were arguing about crossing the wash out, a car drove past, around the barricades and crossed over. I said to Mike,” Look, the wash out is less than a quarter of a mile long. Everyone is doing it, we can too.” Mike looks at me and says, “Just because one car …….” Just then another car headed through on our end and a car started through from the other side. Mike just looked at me and said, “OK, let’s go”. The woman behind the counter was just standing there shaking her head.
So we got in the car and headed over to the washout. We pulled up to the edge of the pavement and Mike stopped. He looked at me and said “I can’t go in there”. I responded “Stop being a baby look, everyone else is doing it.” Mike responded something about all the ruts and boulders in the road and pointed out that there was at least a 4 inch drop off between the pavement and the dirt. I just looked at him and said “Stop being a baby. It’s a rental car. What do you care? A rental car will go anywhere. Look all those other cars have gone through. Stop being a wimp and lets go. It will save us at least an hour on our ride back.” Mike just looked at me shrugged his shoulders and plowed ahead. He dropped off the pavement with a heavy THUD on the frame.
Mike had pulled about 50 feet into the washout when he stopped. I looked at him and asked what the matter was. He said “Look Joe, the hillside, it’s still moving.” I looked over but I couldn’t see anything. I said stop being such a crybaby and let’s go. Mike responded that he wasn’t going anywhere while the Hillside was moving. I looked again and saw it, a little slide. It couldn’t have been much wider than a pencil. A little bit of gravel was trickling down the hillside. I just looked at Mike and told him that had he kept moving he would already be past this area and there would be nothing to worry about. Mike again responded about the ruts. As he was talking a car passed us. I just said, “Hey Mike, follow him.” Mike said “I can’t.” I asked why not. Mike responded “Because he’s in a truck he can just go over the ruts they are too deep for this car. I just said, “Stop whining, drive between the ruts then, let’s go.” All of a sudden it dawned on him. Mike looked at me and said “You stupid idiot, everybody else is in a truck or an SUV. Those things are all 4 wheel drive. We’re in a damn Chevy Malibu we can’t go through there. Why did I let you talk me into this." I just laughed and said, “Well I guess this goes to prove it, a rental car WILL go anywhere, come on, let’s go.”
So Mike put it in gear again and pulled forward maybe twenty feet before stomping on the brakes. I looked at him and said “what now?” Mike said LOOK, IT’S GETTING WORSE.” I looked out the windshield. The little trickle was maybe now a little stream. The gravel was now small rocks and every now and then one the size of a grapefruit would roll past. I just looked at Mike. This time being as forceful as I could be I said “Look, if you would just go we would be past all this and on our way. Mike said something about damaging the car. Again I told him that we were in a rental, and a rental goes anywhere. What? Was he afraid of denting it? Who cares? It’s not his car. Stop being a fraidy-cat and let’s go. Mike finally stepped off the brake, the car almost moved then he stood on the brakes again. I just looked at him and said “’what now?” He just pointed and said “LOOK.” I looked forward, the little stream of dirt was now a small river pouring down the hillside. Now the small rocks were the size of grapefruits, big ones where the size of a laundry basket. I was right in the middle of telling Mike to go on when the first boulder came crashing down. This thing was the size of a washing machine. Then another came down, then a third. Mike threw it into reverse and said “Screw you; I’m getting out of here.” He put the pedal to the metal and stopped worring about the ruts as he raced out backwards Remember the 4 inch drop off to get from the pavement to the dirt? He slammed back onto the pavement with another very heavy couple of THUDs. I think he broke the road. We didn't look to see if he bent the car.
The ride back to the hotel took in excess of two hours. Closer to three in actuality. The PCH is not much fun in the dark. You really can’t see the ocean, or the trees, or Pebble Peach in the pitch black. The headlights punched holes in the darkness, all you could see was what was in their light. The rest was utter blackness. No street lights, no house lights, and at that time of day, no other head lights. My Fiend Mikey spent most of the ride questioning my sanity and wondering why he listens to me. He really should have been questioning himself. After all, he was the one driving. It's not like I could MAKE him try to cross the washed out road. I just proposed an idea, he ran with it. What was it mother used to say? “If your friends told you to light yourself on fire and jump off the roof would you do it?” Same thing really, it’s his own fault.
I still contend that had he just gone for it we would have been through. He's been telling people I tried to kill him ever since. The big crybaby.
When we got back to the hotel is when all the phones and pagers started going off. For anyone that forgets what happened next see “All in a Day’s Work”, February 24, 2010 for a refresher.
So Saturday was surreal. The day started fine in the middle and then fell apart on both ends. Sunday just had to be better.
So Sunday we got up BEFORE noon. Nice. We had a reasonable breakfast at a reasonable time. It was civilized, just like the rest of the day is going to be.
We were sitting around at breakfast debating the day’s activity. A recurring theme began to arise. We needed to see trees, tall trees, trees you could drive through. So a plan was hatched, we were headed out to find a really tall red tree that we could drive through. We had headed south on Saturday. No drive through trees in that direction. Sunday we’re heading North.
As we were leaving the Hotel we were told about the Garlic Festival. Garlic Festival? Sounds weird, but what the heck, it’s been a weird weekend already. Plans were modified so we could swing by and attend the festival.
We jumped into the car and headed north. We were headed for The Festival. It was north, we were going north. Why not? I was unaware of this but California is a large garlic producer. Who knew? Well, I suppose a lot of people did, but I didn’t. I’m going to skip a head a little. The bottom line is we skipped the garlic festival. We weren’t within 2 miles of the place and the smell was overpowering. We could see it off in the distance but we decided not to attend. CRAP, the car and my clothes smelled like garlic the rest of the day. Amazing really when you consider we never actually made it there.
We re-launched our quest to find a Redwood tree we could drive through (Giant Sequoia?).
As we headed north we kept seeing signs for the Mystery Spot. It was everywhere. Bill boards, highway signs (28 miles to the Mystery Spot) bumper stickers. Everywhere we looked it seemed like there was another advertisement for the Mystery Spot. Curiosity being what it is, eventually we decided we just had to see it.
We got off the highway and drove miles and miles through the woods until eventually TA DA we found the Mystery Spot. It was $15.00 to get in. $15.00 a piece that is. A little pricy but what the heck, we’re there now. Before we were allowed into the Mystery Spot we were told a story. We told about how this spot was found in the 1800’s and how gravity and time don’t work the same there. Compasses spin wildly out of control, watches run backwards, water runs uphill. Even the trees don’t grow straight there. This phenomenon has been unexplainable by scientists for over a hundred years. We’re told that if we start to feel dizzy, or faint or nauseous we should let somebody know so that we can be immediately evacuated from the area,
So we marched up to the mystery spot in a small group of about 30 people. All of a sudden there it was, a giant sink hole that nature has started to reclaim. You could see where the trees had started to topple into the hole then stopped, and continued to grow right where they ended up. Over the hole was one of those crooked houses. You know what I mean? All of the doors and windows and frames and sills and handrails etc were crooked. They are deliberately crooked. You know the old adage; there was a crooked man who had a crooked house? It was that house. To show the odd effects the Mystery Spot had on metallic objects they did an experiment with a plumb line. Sure enough, when they dangled the weight on the end of the line, it hung crooked. Or maybe it just looked crooked because there wasn’t a level or even line in the place to compare it with. Then they showed how a ball would roll uphill. OH MY GOD NO, not UPHILL!! (Doodlely doodley do do do) Anyone that has been to the children’s museum has seen this one. Again, it was another optical delusion. The whole freak'n place was nothing but an optical delusion.
I walked out of the mystery place feeling violated. I guess there is a sucker born every minute. I guess this time it was me and Mikey. I realized that there really was a mystery there. It wasn’t balls rolling uphill or trees growing crooked. No, the mystery was, how the hell did I let myself get suckered into paying $15.00 to see a sink hole?
We walked out of the Mystery Spot and we were laughing. We were laughing at us. We started talking to one of the “guides”. While we were talking to this person we asked where we had to go to see a tree we could drive through. The guide looked at us like we were from Mars or something and asked "Why? What do you wan to do THAT for?" We had a long lovely conversation about our being out of towners and how we had never seen even one of them tall trees. After about a 15 minute conversaton the guide finally said "I think you have to go Oregon to see that." We had to ask, so we did. What the hell, we were already committed and there was nothing else to do this day. We asked, “So how long will it take us to drive there?” Now, we’re from New England, in three hours we could pass through 3 states. The west coast is California, Oregon and Washington. How long could it possibly take? The guide looked at as and said “Oh I’m not sure, two days?”
We left the Mystery Spot a combined $30.00 poorer and a little dejected. No tree driving on this trip. It was getting late anyway. We decided to head back.
We headed back and were driving along the coast looking at the ocean. We were about an hour from the hotel. I kept looking at the ocean, marveling that there was no one on the beach. I convinced my friend Mikey (see he's corruptable, very easily given to suggestion)that we should pull over and take advantage of the sand and surf. After all, in all my trips to California I had never even set foot on the beach let alone stuck so much as a toe in the water. We parked the car and headed to the shore. We got down to the water line when I decided that I might never have another opportunity. I kicked off my shoes, rolled up my pants and headed into the surf.
I waded into the Pacific. It was Faaaaahhhhhh-reezing. Kind of like the water in Maine in early May. YIKES. What the heck, this was a one off event. I was gonna make the best of it. I headed in. I was up to about my knees when a jogger headed by. On his way by he looked over and said. “You might want to come out of there.” I responded, “Why? Cuz its cold?” and made a crack about being from New England. As the jogger headed off he looked over his shoulder and said “Nope, the sharks start coming to feed about this time of day. See the seals on the rocks over there?” He pointed to a small seal colony about 100 yards or so further out. Then he disappeared down the beach.
So, I climbed out of the water, put my shoes back on and went back to the hotel. I was headed to the bar. This fun filled day of California dream’n was officially over. Luckily, on Monday so was the trip.
Tell the truth, who’s luckier than me? Well, maybe Mikey is. Anyway, this weekend went smooth as a baby’s butt. Of course you have to remember, a baby’s butt is sometimes covered in poop.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
The continuing adventures of Ladderman.
OK, so now that I’m talking about the ladder from hell it got me thinking. I figure what the heck, might as well keep talk’n about the adventures of Ladderman. (Dauntless creator of stoopidity)
So after a whacked myself on the head I sat on the ground for a while to let the cob webs clear. Finally I figured, well I still gotta paint the house and I’m burning daylight. I might as well have back at it. This time I HAVE to be more careful. I went and checked the ladder and it seemed OK. What the heck, it’s just a big hunk of metal, nothing to hurt there. Maybe I should have a metal head.
I got the ladder back in position where I needed it. This time it’s lying on the ground. I know I can’t balance it and raise it while it’s standing so I figure, what the heck, I’ll extend it on the ground. Which I did. I extended the ladder a far as it could go, all forty feet. It was easy, it was still laying on the ground. Now I had to stand it back up. So again I pushed the feet up against the wall of the house and started to raise Jacobs Ladder (Jacob’s Ladder? You know, Jacob saw a ladder reaching up to heaven with the angles climbing up and down. OK, so I’m stretching) I picked up the end. This time instead of sliding my hands up the rails, I started to walk it up using the rungs. See, much smarter now. Can’t hit me in the head if I’m holding them now can they. It’s not too bad at first. It’s a little heavy but manageable. However the closer I got to the midpoint, the heavier this thing got. Once I reached the midpoint, I started to think maybe this wasn’t such a bright idea after all. Pick up a gallon of milk. Not too bad right? Kind of light don’t you think? Now, try to pick up the same gallon using a 10 foot pole. Go ahead, put a gallon on the floor 10 feet away. Stick a pole through the handle and try to lift it. Much harder, right? Seems much heavier doesn’t it? Now try the same thing only put the gallon 20 feet away. Almost impossible isn’t it? Well this ladder weighed more than a gallon of milk and there was way more than 20 feet hanging behind my head. And the feet on the foundation wall were starting to dance. OOooooooohhhhhh, so that’s what happened last time, the feet slipped. Discretion being the better part of valor, I decided to put the ladder back down and devise another plan.
I laid the ladder down on the ground before I dropped it again. I knew I could stand it up if I collapsed it, but then how would I raise it? Then I came up with a plan. I stood the ladder right up against the house. I raised it the couple of rungs that I could. Then I leaned the ladder over the lower edge of the roof. Now I could use the roof to support the ladder and I could raise it as high as I needed. Another BRILLIANT plan. The plan, it was flawless. And it worked too. I got the ladder fully extended. But now, I have to move it into position in the center of the gable. Not a problem. I’ll lift the bottom and move it over a foot or two, then slide the top over. Not too much mind you. I’ll walk it to the center of the gable very slowly so as not to hurt myself. So, the ladder is still almost straight up and down when I lifted the bottom to move it. It’s heavy, but more than doable. I slid the bottom over a foot or so. When I did, the top of the ladder started to slide down the roof. The roof is pitched. If you’ve ever been on a roof you know that the shingles can be kind of slippery. When I kicked the bottom of the ladder out to the left, the top of the ladder slipped off the roof to the right. Cause and effect. How come I can remember these lessons from Jr High School, but only too late?
Remember the analogy of lifting the milk jug using a 20 foot pole from a paragraph or two ago? Same effect. Once it started to go there was no way I was going to stop it. This 40 foot extension ladder was fully extended, it was heading to earth and there was nothing I could do about it. TTHHHHHAAAAAA-wham!!!, it hit the ground. Not flat like before, but on its side. The damn thing bounced too. My yard slopes away from the front to the house. The ladder may have been 40 feet tall, but the top fell about 75 before it hit the ground. When it did hit the ground, it hit HARD. Now, I’m mad. I’m mad at myself. Damn it, I should have moved the top off the roof first, BEFORE I tried to move the bottom. Oh well, let’s reload and try it again. All well and good except now there’s a problem.
I picked up the end of the ladder and walked it around until I could get the feet back up against the foundation. I needed to do that so I could collapse the ladder again and stand it back up. Except this time the ladder is not collapsing. I’m like, what the hell is that? Why won’t it go down? I started to walk around the ladder to check it out, and then I noticed the problem. Remember I said the ladder fell on its side and that the yard slopes way. Well, it’s not really a slope, it’s more of a little hill thing. The ladder fell across the hill. Now there’s a nice smooth arch to it. The ladder is no longer straight, it’s arched. Not really bent, but arched. SHHHHHEEEEEE-IT. It looks to be only an inch or two or three, but it is definitely arched. NOW what am I gonna do?
I still had to paint the house. What the hell, I may not be able to put it down right now, but I can still go up it. So I put it back up. Now I had to do what I couldn’t do earlier. That is, I had to raise the ladder fully extended. Which I did. I don’t know why I choose to even try. Maybe it was because I had been hit on the head earlier and wasn’t thinking quite right. But I put the damn thing up fully extended. I was lifting and pushing all at the same time. I had to lift it to get it up and I had push it against the foundation to keep pressure on the feet so they wouldn’t slip. Raising that damn ladder was one of the single hardest things I have ever had to do alone.
Eventually, I got the ladder into position and I painted the gable. I got to the point that the ladder was too high. It was time to switch to the shorter ladder. Now what am I gonna do with the big ladder? I sure as hell can’t lower it and there’s no way I’m going to try to bring it down fully extended. The cob webs must of cleared enough for me to start thinking straight because, I didn’t for one split second even consider trying to bring it down extended.
I figured I was going to have to buy my brother a new ladder anyway. What the hell, I’ve dropped this thing a few times already. I might as well drop it again. What the hell can it hurt at this point? So I stood it back straight up and down against the house and flipped it over. I thought I should let it fall on the other side this time. Then I let it fall. TTTTHHHHHHAAAAAAAA-wham!!! It hit the ground again. I swung it around until the feet were back up against the house and tried to collapse it. It slid right back together. No shit. Smooth as butter. I started eyeballing this thing to see why. WHOLEY CRAP, it’s not bent. At least not that I can tell. No more arch. Who’d a thunk it?
I still had another gable to paint. I was smarter the second time around. I waited for Lisa . She stood on the end of the ladder so I could raise or lower it. I still had to extend it using my roof trick, but now I was smart enough to get the top off the roof before I tried to move the bottom.
When I was done painting I very neatly wrapped up the lifting rope and cleaned up the ladder. It looked new again. Any bend or paint or dirt I had gotten on it was gone. I did everything I could to clean it up short of polishing it. I dragged it back over to the driveway. I called my brother and let him know he could come get his ladder. That was over 22 years ago. He’s never said a word to me about the ladder, nor I him. I have never even considered painting the house again. To my way of thinking, a couple of thousand dollars is money well spent not to have to even try.
So after a whacked myself on the head I sat on the ground for a while to let the cob webs clear. Finally I figured, well I still gotta paint the house and I’m burning daylight. I might as well have back at it. This time I HAVE to be more careful. I went and checked the ladder and it seemed OK. What the heck, it’s just a big hunk of metal, nothing to hurt there. Maybe I should have a metal head.
I got the ladder back in position where I needed it. This time it’s lying on the ground. I know I can’t balance it and raise it while it’s standing so I figure, what the heck, I’ll extend it on the ground. Which I did. I extended the ladder a far as it could go, all forty feet. It was easy, it was still laying on the ground. Now I had to stand it back up. So again I pushed the feet up against the wall of the house and started to raise Jacobs Ladder (Jacob’s Ladder? You know, Jacob saw a ladder reaching up to heaven with the angles climbing up and down. OK, so I’m stretching) I picked up the end. This time instead of sliding my hands up the rails, I started to walk it up using the rungs. See, much smarter now. Can’t hit me in the head if I’m holding them now can they. It’s not too bad at first. It’s a little heavy but manageable. However the closer I got to the midpoint, the heavier this thing got. Once I reached the midpoint, I started to think maybe this wasn’t such a bright idea after all. Pick up a gallon of milk. Not too bad right? Kind of light don’t you think? Now, try to pick up the same gallon using a 10 foot pole. Go ahead, put a gallon on the floor 10 feet away. Stick a pole through the handle and try to lift it. Much harder, right? Seems much heavier doesn’t it? Now try the same thing only put the gallon 20 feet away. Almost impossible isn’t it? Well this ladder weighed more than a gallon of milk and there was way more than 20 feet hanging behind my head. And the feet on the foundation wall were starting to dance. OOooooooohhhhhh, so that’s what happened last time, the feet slipped. Discretion being the better part of valor, I decided to put the ladder back down and devise another plan.
I laid the ladder down on the ground before I dropped it again. I knew I could stand it up if I collapsed it, but then how would I raise it? Then I came up with a plan. I stood the ladder right up against the house. I raised it the couple of rungs that I could. Then I leaned the ladder over the lower edge of the roof. Now I could use the roof to support the ladder and I could raise it as high as I needed. Another BRILLIANT plan. The plan, it was flawless. And it worked too. I got the ladder fully extended. But now, I have to move it into position in the center of the gable. Not a problem. I’ll lift the bottom and move it over a foot or two, then slide the top over. Not too much mind you. I’ll walk it to the center of the gable very slowly so as not to hurt myself. So, the ladder is still almost straight up and down when I lifted the bottom to move it. It’s heavy, but more than doable. I slid the bottom over a foot or so. When I did, the top of the ladder started to slide down the roof. The roof is pitched. If you’ve ever been on a roof you know that the shingles can be kind of slippery. When I kicked the bottom of the ladder out to the left, the top of the ladder slipped off the roof to the right. Cause and effect. How come I can remember these lessons from Jr High School, but only too late?
Remember the analogy of lifting the milk jug using a 20 foot pole from a paragraph or two ago? Same effect. Once it started to go there was no way I was going to stop it. This 40 foot extension ladder was fully extended, it was heading to earth and there was nothing I could do about it. TTHHHHHAAAAAA-wham!!!, it hit the ground. Not flat like before, but on its side. The damn thing bounced too. My yard slopes away from the front to the house. The ladder may have been 40 feet tall, but the top fell about 75 before it hit the ground. When it did hit the ground, it hit HARD. Now, I’m mad. I’m mad at myself. Damn it, I should have moved the top off the roof first, BEFORE I tried to move the bottom. Oh well, let’s reload and try it again. All well and good except now there’s a problem.
I picked up the end of the ladder and walked it around until I could get the feet back up against the foundation. I needed to do that so I could collapse the ladder again and stand it back up. Except this time the ladder is not collapsing. I’m like, what the hell is that? Why won’t it go down? I started to walk around the ladder to check it out, and then I noticed the problem. Remember I said the ladder fell on its side and that the yard slopes way. Well, it’s not really a slope, it’s more of a little hill thing. The ladder fell across the hill. Now there’s a nice smooth arch to it. The ladder is no longer straight, it’s arched. Not really bent, but arched. SHHHHHEEEEEE-IT. It looks to be only an inch or two or three, but it is definitely arched. NOW what am I gonna do?
I still had to paint the house. What the hell, I may not be able to put it down right now, but I can still go up it. So I put it back up. Now I had to do what I couldn’t do earlier. That is, I had to raise the ladder fully extended. Which I did. I don’t know why I choose to even try. Maybe it was because I had been hit on the head earlier and wasn’t thinking quite right. But I put the damn thing up fully extended. I was lifting and pushing all at the same time. I had to lift it to get it up and I had push it against the foundation to keep pressure on the feet so they wouldn’t slip. Raising that damn ladder was one of the single hardest things I have ever had to do alone.
Eventually, I got the ladder into position and I painted the gable. I got to the point that the ladder was too high. It was time to switch to the shorter ladder. Now what am I gonna do with the big ladder? I sure as hell can’t lower it and there’s no way I’m going to try to bring it down fully extended. The cob webs must of cleared enough for me to start thinking straight because, I didn’t for one split second even consider trying to bring it down extended.
I figured I was going to have to buy my brother a new ladder anyway. What the hell, I’ve dropped this thing a few times already. I might as well drop it again. What the hell can it hurt at this point? So I stood it back straight up and down against the house and flipped it over. I thought I should let it fall on the other side this time. Then I let it fall. TTTTHHHHHHAAAAAAAA-wham!!! It hit the ground again. I swung it around until the feet were back up against the house and tried to collapse it. It slid right back together. No shit. Smooth as butter. I started eyeballing this thing to see why. WHOLEY CRAP, it’s not bent. At least not that I can tell. No more arch. Who’d a thunk it?
I still had another gable to paint. I was smarter the second time around. I waited for Lisa . She stood on the end of the ladder so I could raise or lower it. I still had to extend it using my roof trick, but now I was smart enough to get the top off the roof before I tried to move the bottom.
When I was done painting I very neatly wrapped up the lifting rope and cleaned up the ladder. It looked new again. Any bend or paint or dirt I had gotten on it was gone. I did everything I could to clean it up short of polishing it. I dragged it back over to the driveway. I called my brother and let him know he could come get his ladder. That was over 22 years ago. He’s never said a word to me about the ladder, nor I him. I have never even considered painting the house again. To my way of thinking, a couple of thousand dollars is money well spent not to have to even try.
Friday, February 11, 2011
The Ladder of Life
I’ve been taking a break from writing my life’s stories for a while. Why? Oh I don’t know. Maybe it’s because of the time commitment required to mangle a long winded essay. Maybe it was a dearth of ideas. Then again, maybe it’s just because I’m lazy. Cuz let’s face it, there are a MILLION stories. Anywhooooo, It’s time to dive back in. So, now that I’m going to have back at it I thought I’d talk about another thing I’m going to try really hard not to do three times. So here goes, what will I try to avoid doing a third time?
I’m going to try with all my might to not drop another ladder on my head. Oh baby, that’s right. Not gonna hit myself in the head with a ladder agin. I bet you’re sitting there wondering just how the heck I can come up with such stories and situations. Welp, let me say this about that.
My first house came with a swimming pool, a nice 24 foot round above ground pool. This thing was great. Tripled my electric bill, cost hundreds of dollars in chemicals and parts and I got to spend all kinds of time and effort maintaining it over the summer. I got to go into this pool exactly twice. I figure for what this thing cost me I could have rented a house at the beach on the Cape for about two weeks. But that didn’t matter, I liked it anyway. I don’t know, I guess I had images of hosting summertime pool parties or something. Never happened, but at least I had the fantasies.
At the end of the season I had to pack things away for the winter. There were all kinds of hoses and pumps and skimmers and nets and and floats and toys and things to store. I didn’t have a garage to throw everything in, but I did have a basement. But I also had some dogs. And the dogs ruled the basement. I couldn’t just throw things down there. Why you may ask? Because the dogs would destroy everything if I did, that’s why. There was a small storage room in the basement so I could protect everything in there. Everything but the ladder that is.
Overall the pool ladder was about 7 or 8 feet tall, it was tubular and the top was curved. The ladder itself was kinda shaped like a giant mutant twin candy cane. You know what I'm talk'n bout it was a pool ladder. You used it as a ladder and handrail for getting out of the pool. I couldn’t just put the thing anywhere, because after all it was tall, and it was a little heavy and it was shaped funny. I flashed on an idea of hanging this thing from the rafters. BRILLIANT!!! But I didn’t have any hooks. But I did have long nails. I figured, what the hell, I'll bang a couple of nails into a rafter and hang it from there. Which I did. I put a couple of nails into the rafters and hung the ladder up. I stepped back and looked at the now suspended ladder and thought to myself. “Well, that was dumb, the ladder is too big and heavy to hang from a couple of nails, it’s just going to fall off.” I decided it had to come back down. I stepped over to the ladder and reached up for it. As I did the inevitable happened. The ladder slipped off the nails
Despite the fact that I thought it would happen, I was surprised it happened so soon. My reaction time was slow and even though I could have caught it, I didn’t. That thing slid off the nails, past my out stretched hands and smacked me square in the head. I was knocked down and out. And I do mean out. I have no idea how long I was out, but I was definitely sleeping for a while. When I came to, I was laying on the ground intertwined in and around the ladder. It’s as if the ladder and I were one. I didn’t have to call for help because Lisa had heard the commotion and come running to see what happed. When I came to, Lisa was standing on the steps and she was screaming. After a second or two, it occurred to me just what she was saying. She was half way down the steps and ways yelling “OH MY GOD YOU”VE BEEN SHOT, THERE'S A HOLE IN YOUR HEAD, YOU”RE BLEEDING ALL OVER THE PLACE!. AAARRRRRHHHHH.” I mean, she didn't come over to heIp me or anything. She just stood on the stairs and yelled for a couple of minutes, then went running back upstairs. I reached up and checked my now aching head. Sure enough, I was wounded. Turns out there was a screw head protruding from the ladder. Lucky me, it caught me square in the forehead.
I pulled myself together and unentwined myself from the ladder. I left it laying there on the floor. Screw the dogs, let them figure out how to get around it. Over time the hole in my forehead healed. There was a nice divot left behind. The divot gave me an opportunity to tell small children some very interesting and imaginative stories about how it got there. (Well you see, I was breaking up a bank robbery and the bad guys tried to shoot me but the bullet just bounced right off ….. if you get my drift) That damn ladder was still laying in the middle of the basement floor when I moved out of the house. Let the next guy figure out what to do with it.
So that was the first time I dropped a ladder on my head and knocked myself silly. Unfortunately, it’s not the only time.
I bought a new house after the house with the pool, a moderately tall garrison colonial. Brandie spankin new too. I was the very first owner. Eventually the time came where this house needed a coat of paint. Now a dozen gallons of paint costs a few hundred dollars. Hiring somebody to paint the place would have cost a couple of thousand dollars. That math model is easy. Painting is not hard, I’ll paint it myself and save oodles of do-re-mi. And I do mean DOOOOOH.
I had a small extension ladder that I borrowed from my In-laws. It was too small to use to paint the whole house. I could get to most of it, but I couldn’t get to the gable ends. Those suckers are two and a half stories tall. In talking to one of my many brothers, he looked at me and said “why don’t you borrow my ladder. It’s a 40 foot extension ladder” A 40 foot ladder is way more than enough to reach any point on my house. So a deal was made and the die was cast. I was painting the house and now I had the proper tools to do it.
My brother is a contractor. As such, he doesn’t have one of those cheapo light weight home owner style ladders. He’s got a really nice, heavy duty contractor grade aluminum extension ladder rated for over 300 pounds. He swings by the house one night and drops off this monstrosity. I should have known this wasn’t a good idea the first time I picked that thing up. The ladder itself weighs in excess of 100 Lbs. Really, I just looked it up. A 40 foot category 1A ladder weighs over 100 pounds. He offered to help me carry it around back, but I didn’t want to seem like a wimp so I told him not to bother. I told him I could handle it. Mind you, it’s not the raw weigh that’s the problem. You need to remember, this behemoth is just over 20 feet long BEFORE you extend it. This damn thing is un-freaking-wieldy
The weekend he dropped it off I decided I’d take care of the gable ends so I could get the ladder back to him quickly. I dragged the damn ladder behind the house so I could get to the first gable.. And I do mean dragged. I’m glad my brother wasn’t there to watch me move his ladder. He wouldn’t have left it with me had he seen me try to move it. I was all by myself. I had no kids yet and, well frankly, Lisa was going to be no help. Literally. She left as soon as I started. After much struggle and a little bit of swearage, I stood the thing up. DAMN that was a chore. Now it was time to extend it. I grabbed the rope and pulled. UUUUUmmmmmmph, it was heavy. I got it up four or five rungs and could get it no further. The thing was heavy and it was a bitch to balance. Without help, there was no way I was getting it fully extended. So I decided to lower the ladder and extend it on the ground. I’d just stand it back up once I got the right extension. I pushed the base of the ladder up against the foundation of the house and started to lower it. I figured I could use the foundation to keep the bottom from sliding out as it came down. Anyway, I got it up against the foundation. I put my hands on the side rails and started backing up to lower the ladder. Again, this thing was heavy and un-godly-freaking-awkward to maneuver. I had backed up 4 or 5 feet or so when it happened. I don’t know if the base of the ladder slipped or my arms buckled or what. The next thing I know I got whacked in the head by one of the rungs of the ladder as it was coming down. Now I’m seeing stars. Of course, once I got hit in the head, my arms did buckle momentarily. When they did, my head poked through the rungs. Now the ladder was resting on both of my shoulders, and they are acting like a nice pivot point. The bottom of the thing started to work its way up the foundation wall, and the top was gaining speed as it headed to the ground behind me. I’m seeing stars. The little Tweety birds circling my head were singing sweet lullabies in my ears. My arms were like rubber and my knees were buckling. At this point I may not have known much but even in my dazed state I knew I was in trouble.
My head is protruding through the rungs in the ladder. I’m having visions of breaking my neck or possibly worse. My mind was racing trying to figure out how to get out of this spot. Just about the time I reached the conclusion that I was a goner, the base of the ladder got caught on the siding of the house and it stopped its climb up the wall. It must have been an adrenalin rush or something but somehow I got enough composure of thought to come up with a plan and boost of strength to implement said plan. I was able to straighten and lock my knees. With all of the strength I could muster I did my best to pull my head out from between the rungs and toss the ladder, all in one quick motion. AND IT WORKED!!. My head popped out from between the rungs as the ladder slowly toppled over on its side. It hit the ground with a sickening thud and so did I.
I fell to the ground holding my head and trembling. I had been knocked to Queer Street as they say. Well, it was one of Dads sayings anyway (as opposed to being knocked into the middle of next week, but that's a different story). My eyes are rolling in opposite directions; I’m seeing stars and the ringing in my head is quite loud. I was sitting there waiting for the double vision to start, because after all it was better than the quadruple vision I was having at the time. WHOLEY SHIT, that was close.
I’ve learned a couple of valuable lessons in life really. I’ve learned there are a bunch of things I’ll try not to do more than twice. As a homeowner, I can’t say that I’ll never use a ladder again. I mean, let’s be realistic here. Sometimes you just gotta. But what I can say is, I will NEVER, let me repeat that, I will NEVER use the ladder alone, AGAIN. It’s too painful, what I can remember of it anyway.
I’m going to try with all my might to not drop another ladder on my head. Oh baby, that’s right. Not gonna hit myself in the head with a ladder agin. I bet you’re sitting there wondering just how the heck I can come up with such stories and situations. Welp, let me say this about that.
My first house came with a swimming pool, a nice 24 foot round above ground pool. This thing was great. Tripled my electric bill, cost hundreds of dollars in chemicals and parts and I got to spend all kinds of time and effort maintaining it over the summer. I got to go into this pool exactly twice. I figure for what this thing cost me I could have rented a house at the beach on the Cape for about two weeks. But that didn’t matter, I liked it anyway. I don’t know, I guess I had images of hosting summertime pool parties or something. Never happened, but at least I had the fantasies.
At the end of the season I had to pack things away for the winter. There were all kinds of hoses and pumps and skimmers and nets and and floats and toys and things to store. I didn’t have a garage to throw everything in, but I did have a basement. But I also had some dogs. And the dogs ruled the basement. I couldn’t just throw things down there. Why you may ask? Because the dogs would destroy everything if I did, that’s why. There was a small storage room in the basement so I could protect everything in there. Everything but the ladder that is.
Overall the pool ladder was about 7 or 8 feet tall, it was tubular and the top was curved. The ladder itself was kinda shaped like a giant mutant twin candy cane. You know what I'm talk'n bout it was a pool ladder. You used it as a ladder and handrail for getting out of the pool. I couldn’t just put the thing anywhere, because after all it was tall, and it was a little heavy and it was shaped funny. I flashed on an idea of hanging this thing from the rafters. BRILLIANT!!! But I didn’t have any hooks. But I did have long nails. I figured, what the hell, I'll bang a couple of nails into a rafter and hang it from there. Which I did. I put a couple of nails into the rafters and hung the ladder up. I stepped back and looked at the now suspended ladder and thought to myself. “Well, that was dumb, the ladder is too big and heavy to hang from a couple of nails, it’s just going to fall off.” I decided it had to come back down. I stepped over to the ladder and reached up for it. As I did the inevitable happened. The ladder slipped off the nails
Despite the fact that I thought it would happen, I was surprised it happened so soon. My reaction time was slow and even though I could have caught it, I didn’t. That thing slid off the nails, past my out stretched hands and smacked me square in the head. I was knocked down and out. And I do mean out. I have no idea how long I was out, but I was definitely sleeping for a while. When I came to, I was laying on the ground intertwined in and around the ladder. It’s as if the ladder and I were one. I didn’t have to call for help because Lisa had heard the commotion and come running to see what happed. When I came to, Lisa was standing on the steps and she was screaming. After a second or two, it occurred to me just what she was saying. She was half way down the steps and ways yelling “OH MY GOD YOU”VE BEEN SHOT, THERE'S A HOLE IN YOUR HEAD, YOU”RE BLEEDING ALL OVER THE PLACE!. AAARRRRRHHHHH.” I mean, she didn't come over to heIp me or anything. She just stood on the stairs and yelled for a couple of minutes, then went running back upstairs. I reached up and checked my now aching head. Sure enough, I was wounded. Turns out there was a screw head protruding from the ladder. Lucky me, it caught me square in the forehead.
I pulled myself together and unentwined myself from the ladder. I left it laying there on the floor. Screw the dogs, let them figure out how to get around it. Over time the hole in my forehead healed. There was a nice divot left behind. The divot gave me an opportunity to tell small children some very interesting and imaginative stories about how it got there. (Well you see, I was breaking up a bank robbery and the bad guys tried to shoot me but the bullet just bounced right off ….. if you get my drift) That damn ladder was still laying in the middle of the basement floor when I moved out of the house. Let the next guy figure out what to do with it.
So that was the first time I dropped a ladder on my head and knocked myself silly. Unfortunately, it’s not the only time.
I bought a new house after the house with the pool, a moderately tall garrison colonial. Brandie spankin new too. I was the very first owner. Eventually the time came where this house needed a coat of paint. Now a dozen gallons of paint costs a few hundred dollars. Hiring somebody to paint the place would have cost a couple of thousand dollars. That math model is easy. Painting is not hard, I’ll paint it myself and save oodles of do-re-mi. And I do mean DOOOOOH.
I had a small extension ladder that I borrowed from my In-laws. It was too small to use to paint the whole house. I could get to most of it, but I couldn’t get to the gable ends. Those suckers are two and a half stories tall. In talking to one of my many brothers, he looked at me and said “why don’t you borrow my ladder. It’s a 40 foot extension ladder” A 40 foot ladder is way more than enough to reach any point on my house. So a deal was made and the die was cast. I was painting the house and now I had the proper tools to do it.
My brother is a contractor. As such, he doesn’t have one of those cheapo light weight home owner style ladders. He’s got a really nice, heavy duty contractor grade aluminum extension ladder rated for over 300 pounds. He swings by the house one night and drops off this monstrosity. I should have known this wasn’t a good idea the first time I picked that thing up. The ladder itself weighs in excess of 100 Lbs. Really, I just looked it up. A 40 foot category 1A ladder weighs over 100 pounds. He offered to help me carry it around back, but I didn’t want to seem like a wimp so I told him not to bother. I told him I could handle it. Mind you, it’s not the raw weigh that’s the problem. You need to remember, this behemoth is just over 20 feet long BEFORE you extend it. This damn thing is un-freaking-wieldy
The weekend he dropped it off I decided I’d take care of the gable ends so I could get the ladder back to him quickly. I dragged the damn ladder behind the house so I could get to the first gable.. And I do mean dragged. I’m glad my brother wasn’t there to watch me move his ladder. He wouldn’t have left it with me had he seen me try to move it. I was all by myself. I had no kids yet and, well frankly, Lisa was going to be no help. Literally. She left as soon as I started. After much struggle and a little bit of swearage, I stood the thing up. DAMN that was a chore. Now it was time to extend it. I grabbed the rope and pulled. UUUUUmmmmmmph, it was heavy. I got it up four or five rungs and could get it no further. The thing was heavy and it was a bitch to balance. Without help, there was no way I was getting it fully extended. So I decided to lower the ladder and extend it on the ground. I’d just stand it back up once I got the right extension. I pushed the base of the ladder up against the foundation of the house and started to lower it. I figured I could use the foundation to keep the bottom from sliding out as it came down. Anyway, I got it up against the foundation. I put my hands on the side rails and started backing up to lower the ladder. Again, this thing was heavy and un-godly-freaking-awkward to maneuver. I had backed up 4 or 5 feet or so when it happened. I don’t know if the base of the ladder slipped or my arms buckled or what. The next thing I know I got whacked in the head by one of the rungs of the ladder as it was coming down. Now I’m seeing stars. Of course, once I got hit in the head, my arms did buckle momentarily. When they did, my head poked through the rungs. Now the ladder was resting on both of my shoulders, and they are acting like a nice pivot point. The bottom of the thing started to work its way up the foundation wall, and the top was gaining speed as it headed to the ground behind me. I’m seeing stars. The little Tweety birds circling my head were singing sweet lullabies in my ears. My arms were like rubber and my knees were buckling. At this point I may not have known much but even in my dazed state I knew I was in trouble.
My head is protruding through the rungs in the ladder. I’m having visions of breaking my neck or possibly worse. My mind was racing trying to figure out how to get out of this spot. Just about the time I reached the conclusion that I was a goner, the base of the ladder got caught on the siding of the house and it stopped its climb up the wall. It must have been an adrenalin rush or something but somehow I got enough composure of thought to come up with a plan and boost of strength to implement said plan. I was able to straighten and lock my knees. With all of the strength I could muster I did my best to pull my head out from between the rungs and toss the ladder, all in one quick motion. AND IT WORKED!!. My head popped out from between the rungs as the ladder slowly toppled over on its side. It hit the ground with a sickening thud and so did I.
I fell to the ground holding my head and trembling. I had been knocked to Queer Street as they say. Well, it was one of Dads sayings anyway (as opposed to being knocked into the middle of next week, but that's a different story). My eyes are rolling in opposite directions; I’m seeing stars and the ringing in my head is quite loud. I was sitting there waiting for the double vision to start, because after all it was better than the quadruple vision I was having at the time. WHOLEY SHIT, that was close.
I’ve learned a couple of valuable lessons in life really. I’ve learned there are a bunch of things I’ll try not to do more than twice. As a homeowner, I can’t say that I’ll never use a ladder again. I mean, let’s be realistic here. Sometimes you just gotta. But what I can say is, I will NEVER, let me repeat that, I will NEVER use the ladder alone, AGAIN. It’s too painful, what I can remember of it anyway.
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