Award Tour Vol. 16: He's Definitely Coming

I’ve been circling the block for awhile now… if I get pulled over and held in custody for suspiciously being suspicious (and I’m sure that’s covered under the Patriot Act somewhere) I honestly couldn’t be mad. I’d detain me too right now. Vultures don’t make as many revolutions over their prey as I have made on this one block in D.C. looking for an open parking space. And when one finally opened up I pounced on it (when you're down town, finding an open parking space, is like stumbling across a bag of money - you don't ask questions, you haul a$$ and you take it - and I did). I parked, got some grub, and was about to be on my way without incident when it happened - I like to refer to it as The:

Downtown Domestic Dispute
Downtown Domestic Dispute
Downtown Domestic Dispute
Downtown Domestic Dispute

- cause that's what it was, and that's where it happened (I just added the visual echo for effect). By the way, like every other blog entry on here, this is a true story. It actually happened.

As I said, I'm walking back to my car, minding my business and a car comes flying up the street, in a way that isn’t even typical for D.C. aggressive driving. I’m thinking - drive by - that's it - it's all over - 8 years of school for nothing… but then it screeches to a halt. Hmmm. Okay so… not a drive by… perhaps a jack move? In D.C., honestly, you just never know.

It was at this point that I see a guy walking on the sidewalk briskly nearby where the white station wagon came to a halt. A woman leaned out of the driver side window and began screaming for the man walking in the distant. There wasn't much in the way of a dialogue. Just her screaming and him walking (my best guess is that he wasn't listening - I'm just basing that on common male instinct). The woman yelled, "Lafayette, I'm not playing with you." Ah ha, now we have a name; Lafayette, the walking man. As for the howling woman… let's call her Macy Black - kind of like Macy Gray - only without the musical talent.

Macy got out of the car and started towards Lafayette who looked back for a second, feigned interest for a moment, and kept on walking… like whatever threat her look was meant to convey, she needed more people. So she started running towards him - but with short choppy steps as though her legs had been bound together at the ankles with her arms barely even pumping (you should be envisioning a penguin right about now). She cocked one hand back and swung but Lafayette dodged it easily and accelerated a few feet out of reach. It was kind of like an older brother goading a younger brother… keeping far enough away that he couldn’t be hit, but close enough to encourage Macy to try again… and she did.

And she failed; slicing furiously through empty space swing after swing. Justice denied, vengeance mocked, blood lust ignited. Chasing after him in short intervals took her far away from the car, so Macy ran back to the station wagon (where door was still wide open, and the engine was still running) hopped in and drove even with him… the car was barely stopped before she hopped out this time and raced after him. Anyone wanna guess how events unfolded from here?

It was like the mid-way-through-the-episode Scooby Doo chase scene, with Macy and Lafayette weaving in and out of parked cars. At one point she literally chased Lafayette for at least 1 ½ clock wise revolutions around a parked Corolla, like a grown up game of “Duck, Duck, Goose”. I probably shouldn’t have laughed, but how could you not? Where do grown people do this kind of thing? (Answer: D.C.)



Anyway Lafayette finally tired her out (approaching the 2nd complete circuit around the Corolla) and once she stopped, he jogged a little ways away, and amazingly returned to an ordinary walking gait... like he thinks this confrontation has finally reached it's conclusion. You and I know it hasn't. And though the direct frontal assault has paid exactly Zero dividends to Macy thus far, I’m guessing she’s thinking “the 7^th time is the charm “and she lunged at Lafayette one mo’ gin’. He responded by juking to the left, and when Macy bit on the fake, cutting back right running towards the end of the block and around the corner; it wasn’t Barry Sanders but man did he ever achieve separation... on any football field in America, that play goes for 15 yards minimum. Macy spun around for a second, ran back to the car and gave chase. And that meant driving the car backwards and in the wrong direction on a one way street. And let’s face it, when Motor Vehicle safety is not really one of your concerns while you’re operating a motor vehicle, if you're an innocent bystander now is the time to seek shelter.

p.s. When she drove past I saw that she had a young child strapped in a safety seat in the back (an understandable look of horror etched on every part of his face). I don’t think we can begin to imagine the years of therapy it’s gonna take to undo what was done here today. If we’re lucky, he’ll just grow up with an unhealthy fear of riding in the back seat of an automobile. I’m keeping my fingers crossed, but either way, save a spot for him on the couch - he's definitely coming.

Award Tour Vol. 15: For Any Reason

So I'm sitting in a conference room, at a table with 10 other people from various departments and engineering disciplines. We have gathered here today to get through this thing called life a technical meeting. Most of the technical leads are on the left end of the table, but Ernest (not his real name) who I presume called this meeting, is sitting to my right at the head of the table, leaned back in his chair, hand cupping the back of his head like he was on the beach… I don’t think he could be anymore indifferent to this meeting if he tried.

Me? I’m here… more than anything else I’m kind of tired, kind of hungry (which you may rightfully interpret to mean I'm only kind of paying attention to anything being said). Not that I was missing anything, when people start rattling off “scalability”, “vertical integration”, “enterprise framework” and a host of other buzz words that it’s obvious they don’t actually understand, the meeting is effectively a “wash”. Nothing of import is going to get done. I know it. You know it. The people saying the buzz words probably know it. So mentally, Exit Stage Left for me.

A few moments later, I’m scribbling in my notepad (trying to at least look like I’m engaged and interested) when I feel it… “the disturbance in the force”. The only way I can think to describe it, is the feeling you get when someone is doing something they have absolutely NO business doing. I look up from my notebook and scan the room from left to right. Is it someone in this room? The technical leads are still busy to impress one another.

I look to Ernest, and may my eyes someday forgive me for doing so… this chimpanzee was digging in his nose. Not scratching the edge, not rubbing the outside, but boldly going where no finger should go during a meeting. The same way you may not believe this as you’re reading it, I didn’t believe it as I was watching it. I even convinced myself that I couldn’t be seeing it.

He didn’t dig in his nose did he? Naw he couldn’t have. I mean cause he has his fingers in his mouth now and he wouldn't dig in his nose and then put his fingers right back in his mouth right? Right.

Logic comes in and restores order for the moment. And deep down inside, I knew, I should just look away from here on out… nothing good can come from continuing to watch him. Ernest is Col. Jessup to my Lt. Kaffee… I want the truth, but I can’t handle the truth. But since I can’t seem to sell myself on my own lie, I keep watching. And I guess Ernest took that to mean I double dog dared him to do it again.

So he did.

Except this time he upped the ante… he digs in his nose, extracts, and examines (as if appraising it) and then places it in his mouth.

Pick whichever expression of horror fits your needs best. What was truly crazy (as if this story isn’t crazy enough already) was, that the voices in the room did not fall silent. His antics met with no disapproval or acknowledgement. The meeting continued on as though nothing had happened - as though they didn’t see this dude at the head of the table just dig in his nose. And a “What the bloodclot?” goes right about here.

Apparently unsatisfied with the lack of outrage his first performance drew, Ernest decides to push “all-in” on the next deal. And what did he do for his encore, what outrageous act could possibly shock the crowd in a way that his last antics hadn't? This fool takes off his shoe, and his sock (yes at the meeting, at the head of the table where everyone else can see him) and begins to pick crust from between his toes.

Crust.

I provided a couple more there for you… there’s no rush, take your time and pick the one that’s right for you. I look around the room with an expression that can only be described as, “Really?” But no one responded. To a person, they refused to acknowledge anything that happened. It was like he had done this before and they just refused to go for the bait. The coup de grâce: having scraped the crust from in between his toes (much of which, it would be fair to assume, remained firmly entrenched under his finger nails), he then proceeded to the candy jar, rooted around for Peppermints (and by the way, none of the candy was individually wrapped) and begins to suck on it. To recap, that’s toe crust, boogie, boogie, and peppermint…

…honestly I’d probably have to grab screen stills from “Faces of Death” to find the expression that’s appropriate for this situation. There’s only so much you can ask of Google. I buried my head down in my notebook (if only to hide abject disgust) and didn't look up for the rest of the meeting. As chance would have it, this day would mark the last time that I opened any doors in the building with my bare hands or shook hands with anyone - for any reason - at work.