As a diabetic, I spend a lot of time on this stuff, not as much as I should as it turns out but more than I ever envisioned back in the days when Mom and Dad would get me those science kits for Christmas from A. C. Gilbert. I often wonder how many current meth lab owners got their start and inspiration from 'back in the day.' Maybe DEA should add that question to the intake interview during processing.
I take the entire day off from work, not that anyone notices (except for the silence which is so seldom when I'm there I'm not sure people know what it is when I'm not), because sometimes the visits get a little intense and I'm not able to be at work if I go to work. Loudly slamming doors repeatedly, shouting in the hallway at the top of my voice (as someone I know is fond of saying) and being generally disagreeable is all well and good for a three year old, but we've filled that position and the ageist bastards didn't hire me.
Which meant I got to be home for a day that began with so much fog that stayed and stayed and stayed I thought it would never leave but that set us up, when it did, for one of the most glorious days of the year (so far). Temperatures reached the lower Sixties, with a light breeze and a cloudless cerulean blue sky that you could lose yourself in. If this is November in New England, bring on Christmas (but it isn't and no one did).
After my escape from Endocrine Island, the day stretched before me like a Roy Drusky lyric in a Carolyn Wonderland world (see, Chris? I still pay attention-just a lot more leisurely...). I headed toward Broadway (and you though you needed talent? HA!), okay our Broadway. Coming at me a little unsteadily on this beat-up bicycle, pedaling into coming traffic (= the wrong way), and clutching a thirty-six can suitcase of a domestic beer that when I drank I would've used to wash my car's tire rims, was one of the most ragged men I have ever seen with a grin so big I feared the whole top of his head would fall off.
When he attempted to smile, I saw he had no teeth at all and he winked at me as he ignored the red light to make a left onto Sachem Street from Washington, which should have been easy as he was on the side closest to the turn in the first place, but he took it very wide and tried to correct too quickly and the back tire slid out from under him at the corner and he went down, and down hard, sending cans of beer in all directions.
I gave him a hand rounding the loose containers up; the Lord gives us each whatever kind of cats we can best shepherd I suppose, but the cardboard suitcase was wrecked. He seemed lost, but only for a moment and then reached into a pocket I'd have never put my hand into, and pulled out a cell phone (!) and called someone to come pick him up, assuring the worried soon-to-be driver, "I got the beer, but the bike is wrecked," adding "and the bell is broke." If that's the worst thing that happened in these parts yesterday all I can do is bless the weather and pray for more.
-bill kenny
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