Thursday, May 25, 2006
Ssssccccrrrrreeeeeeeeccccchhhh. . . Bam!
These are some pictures I took downtown one Saturday afternoon. I was standing on the street corner taking this picture and suddenly heard a screech. I looked up the hill to the left of the church and saw this car swirving around to it's left, almost like a quick u-turn. Behind it was a small moving truck trying to stop. Then, bam, the truck hit the back end of the car. I put my camera back up and took a quick pic. Took one more with the church in it before putting it away and calling 911. First time I've ever called 911. Everyone was fine, just annoyed because of the wreck. The lady in the car had a tire that blew out going down the hill and caused the wreck. She simply was trying to stop before crossing the intersection below. Can't blame her. I thought the truck driver did a great job at attempting to avoid her, too. Just glad everyone was ok. It made for an interesting afternoon.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
What Ever Happened to a Quiet Episode of the Twighlight Zone?
The book was pulling him in further. It was so much information, but yet it kept drawing him in. By now he had finished the introduction and the half the first chapter. He was never a big reader, rarely reads to this day. This new book was a simple one, just a bunch of knowledge to help him make a better blog. It was all about HTML code, nothing more. But somehow it was so fascinating to the man. It was nearly 12:30a.m., and he had not slept much the night before, either. Still he pushed on.
"Pop.....pop!" Suddenly his attention was drawn to a new interest. "What was that sound?" he thought to himself. It actually sounded just like two gun shots, about 5 seconds apart. His mind wandered, it could have been a murder, a double murder, or just someone shooting at the noisy bird outside. Yes, he hoped they shot the bird. Not a crude hand signal, but a real bird that had plagued the complex for weeks. It was 12:35a.m. The bird was still singing it's same concoction of songs. He just sat there listening. There were no other sounds.
Now it was 12:39a.m., his mind still wandering away. He got up and moved to the door, opening it carefully, as to not wake up the woman sleeping across the hall. He hesitated and thought, "I wonder if the noises woke her up." Nothing. Not a sound, except the extremely early bird. He continued to the front window and looked out. Nothing. What was going on? He waited a minute or two; then heard the sound. A car was coming down the lot. Should he call the police? It had crossed his mind several times. "Ah," he thought. The car speeding past was a police car. The Vestavia Hills Police had once again been summoned here. This time he knew just what for. Someone else had been suspicious, or even a victim of some heinous crime. The car didn't stop. It was another two or three minutes till another cop sped by the window. Not in that desperate hurry, where someone's life is at stake. Just an earnest pace to find out what was going on here.
He watched out the window, saw one man walking his dog. The first policeman had stopped, asked the other man something, and apparently gotten an answer. The car turned around and drove down the hill; it stopped. It was pulled up next to another police cruiser that must have found something. What?! The tall man's heart began to race. He felt like he should duck or something. But from what? He just stood there and watched. Two more cruisers went by and kept circling every few minutes. Suspicions were up.
He suddenly looked down. There it was, the door unlocked from that afternoon. He had been so distracted by her talking, forgotten to lock the huge sliding glass door that led to his patio. No one had entered, to his knowledge, anyway. Besides, there was no where to hide. He was glad to realize the oversight, felt safer. Safer? There were apparent gun shots being passed around like they were tickets to an Alabama game-no one wanted them and definitely did not deserve that torment! He would stay until the end to see what happened. Nothing was visible, because the big green dumpster blocked the view. At least he knew there would be no bullets for him, flying past the nasty things. Some cars still circled. Like patient sharks they looked for their prey. 1:00a.m. He was so tired and could not stand there much longer. They were moving now, seemed to be leaving. All but one car pulled away, that one to follow, shortly. He saw nothing, heard nothing, except the cars leaving, and, yes, that annoying bird. It was his only entertainment, nothing coming from watching the action that was not to be.
He closed the window in silence. No ambulance, fire truck, FBI. Good thing! She still had not stirred. He headed back to bed, exhausted, confused. His thoughts then began to return to the book. He got settled into the large bed. Stretched out, he read for almost another hour. His eyes heavy, heavier, closed. Awake! The book was good but had to be put down. 2a.m. and so quiet. So much had been learned; so much had happened outside. But what? Who knows, but he began to wonder if this was a sign to move out. An apartment fire nearby, a car fire in front of his apartment, and now this, bullets whizzing. He did not care anymore, too tired to think. The lights were out, the covers pulled up, darkness, and..."hhhuuuuuuuu..whewwww......"
"Pop.....pop!" Suddenly his attention was drawn to a new interest. "What was that sound?" he thought to himself. It actually sounded just like two gun shots, about 5 seconds apart. His mind wandered, it could have been a murder, a double murder, or just someone shooting at the noisy bird outside. Yes, he hoped they shot the bird. Not a crude hand signal, but a real bird that had plagued the complex for weeks. It was 12:35a.m. The bird was still singing it's same concoction of songs. He just sat there listening. There were no other sounds.
Now it was 12:39a.m., his mind still wandering away. He got up and moved to the door, opening it carefully, as to not wake up the woman sleeping across the hall. He hesitated and thought, "I wonder if the noises woke her up." Nothing. Not a sound, except the extremely early bird. He continued to the front window and looked out. Nothing. What was going on? He waited a minute or two; then heard the sound. A car was coming down the lot. Should he call the police? It had crossed his mind several times. "Ah," he thought. The car speeding past was a police car. The Vestavia Hills Police had once again been summoned here. This time he knew just what for. Someone else had been suspicious, or even a victim of some heinous crime. The car didn't stop. It was another two or three minutes till another cop sped by the window. Not in that desperate hurry, where someone's life is at stake. Just an earnest pace to find out what was going on here.
He watched out the window, saw one man walking his dog. The first policeman had stopped, asked the other man something, and apparently gotten an answer. The car turned around and drove down the hill; it stopped. It was pulled up next to another police cruiser that must have found something. What?! The tall man's heart began to race. He felt like he should duck or something. But from what? He just stood there and watched. Two more cruisers went by and kept circling every few minutes. Suspicions were up.
He suddenly looked down. There it was, the door unlocked from that afternoon. He had been so distracted by her talking, forgotten to lock the huge sliding glass door that led to his patio. No one had entered, to his knowledge, anyway. Besides, there was no where to hide. He was glad to realize the oversight, felt safer. Safer? There were apparent gun shots being passed around like they were tickets to an Alabama game-no one wanted them and definitely did not deserve that torment! He would stay until the end to see what happened. Nothing was visible, because the big green dumpster blocked the view. At least he knew there would be no bullets for him, flying past the nasty things. Some cars still circled. Like patient sharks they looked for their prey. 1:00a.m. He was so tired and could not stand there much longer. They were moving now, seemed to be leaving. All but one car pulled away, that one to follow, shortly. He saw nothing, heard nothing, except the cars leaving, and, yes, that annoying bird. It was his only entertainment, nothing coming from watching the action that was not to be.
He closed the window in silence. No ambulance, fire truck, FBI. Good thing! She still had not stirred. He headed back to bed, exhausted, confused. His thoughts then began to return to the book. He got settled into the large bed. Stretched out, he read for almost another hour. His eyes heavy, heavier, closed. Awake! The book was good but had to be put down. 2a.m. and so quiet. So much had been learned; so much had happened outside. But what? Who knows, but he began to wonder if this was a sign to move out. An apartment fire nearby, a car fire in front of his apartment, and now this, bullets whizzing. He did not care anymore, too tired to think. The lights were out, the covers pulled up, darkness, and..."hhhuuuuuuuu..whewwww......"
-----------------------------------------------------------
This story is a true story, taking place somewhere in the that dull, barely lit at that time of morning place called home. That place between reality, insomnia, and tomorrow. The question: why are bullets traveling through the air at 1a.m. instead of sitting idly in a gun, in an apartment complex with no known history of violence, just heated, twisted ashes? The answer: no one knows, so I can not tell you! I can only say that this is an incident that happened to me, yes me, this past Monday night/early Tuesday morning, somewhere in Mountain Lodge, somewhere in... The twighlight zone.
(Disclaimer: the woman in this story was my mom, visiting for the night. No, she did not hear anything!
No animals are known to have been harmed in the making of this drama.)
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
A chandelier in his car?
The other day I was standing outside talking to some of the guys that work with me. Suddenly one of them said, "That guy's got a light in his car!" I said, "Realy?" He said, "No, I mean a chandelier." I turned around and sure enough, the guy had a small chandelier hanging inside his car in place of the normal overhead light. It was one of those with the bling-bling chrystals, like the Swarovski chandeliers we sell at Lowe's. It wasn't the exact one pictured above, but a similar ceiling-mount version. Our jaws were dropping in wonder. It was hillarious! Yeah, he was definately on his way to pimpin' out his ride. Too many MTV reruns?!
My next thought was, "I wonder if he's coming in to get some replacement bulbs? Or maybe even better, he is going to get a new light or one for a friend." Sure enough he did come to the electrical department, but no lights were purchased. Oh well.
This experience tops all my experiences with Lowe's customers' crazy and "creative ideas" on where to put certain lights. Next we are expecting to see a lanscape light as a hood ornament. Please, place your bets early! It could be any day.
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