Taps V13.2

Over the past few months, I have had several wonderful discussions with the enlightened ones. The ones that have been fortunate enough to see the error of my ways and kind enough to take great delight in pointing them out. I figured I would share a few with you.

In most of these the names have been changed. Not to protect the guilty or innocent. More so that I just didn’t think it was worthy to spend the brain power to actually remember their names.

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#1 – Happy Holidays.
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Random Person: So what are you planning on doing for Christmas this year?

Me: For christmas? Nothing. The time I take off around then? We are visiting my in-laws.

RP: What do you mean not “for Christmas”?

Me: Not really a holiday I celebrate.

RP: Why the hell not? Who doesn’t celebrate Christmas?

Me: Do you celebrate Hanukkah?

RP: No.

Me: Why not?

RP: I’m not Jewish!

Me: Same reason I don’t celebrate christmas. I’m not a christian.

RP: Are you Jewish?

Me: Nope.

RP: Islamic?

Me: Nope.

RP: Then what do you believe in?

Me: Me. And those close to me.

RP: Seriously? You dont believe in some sort of higher power? Supreme being? Anything?

Me: If I had to choose any religion. It would be a toss up between Greek or Roman mytholgoy, and ancient Egyptian beliefs. Those guys were awesome. Individual gods for each specific necessity. I gotta respect any deity that specializes.

RP: *blink*

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#2 – You will spend all eternity burning in a lake of fire. Have a nice day.
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Random Person: How come every photograph you put on Flickr is some naked woman?

Me: How come basic math skills elude you?

RP: Huh?

Me: What?

RP: All you have on there is nude women.

Me: That’s what I am saying. There are over 2500 photos in my Flickr stream. Less than 5% of those have nude women in them. Where I come from, basic math states that 5% is nowhere near all. It isn’t even close to being most. Nor is it approaching half. It just barely classifies itself as some.

RP: I dont think there should be any. They are disgusting. Most of them are fat anyways. Or ugly.

Me: Ohhhh… I get it. It isn’t that they are nude. It’s more that you don’t find them attractive. That’s what makes it wrong?

RP: Well. Either way. Pornography is a sin. And you will go to hell for what you have done.

Me: Really? A sin? Says who?

RP: God says so. It is in The Bible.

Me: Show me.

RP: Huh?

Me: Show me. Point to the exact line in this Bible you talk about that says that.

RP: I dont have a bible on me.

Me: Then Google it. Something. Anything. Please enlighten me. I dont think you can.

RP: It says it. Trust me.

Me: OK… Sure. Hey! What if I painted her nude? Is that OK? Is it the content we are referring to? Or is it the medium?

RP: That wouldn’t matter. Its the fact that she is naked that is the problem.

Me: I knew it! That Michelangelo guy was awful! All those naked people all over the Sistine Chapel.

RP: WHAT?!?! NO!! Those are religous paintings. They aren’t a sin.

Me: Cool. One of the women I photographed is a Reverend. I should be OK then.

RP: *shocked look*

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#3 – You are going to die.
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Scene: Me, standing out behind my office on the loading docks, smoking a cigarette. There is a sidewalk to the right of the dock that leads directly from the parking lot to the doors back into the building. There are steps on the left side of the dock.

Random Person: *Walks in front of the docks to go to the steps, then has to cross the dock/smoking area to get to the doors*

Me: *Nods Hello*

RP: *cough* I just want you to know, my father recently died from lung cancer because he smoked all his life.

Me: What a coincidence. Mine died from sticking his nose into other peoples business.

RP: *shocked* What? That was just rude! You are an asshole.

Me: I’m the asshole? I didnt just walk 80 feet out of my way to tell you that you were going to die.

RP: *Leaves to go inside. Gets to the door and cannot open it.* Can you let me in?

Me: Do you work here?

RP: Yes. In that building over there.

Me: Nope. Cant help you. That’s a security door. It is there for a reason. And me bypassing security to allow just anyone in would defeat the whole purpose. If you were supposed to be in this building, then you would have a card that allows you access.

RP: Do you know who I am?

Me: Nope. And I don’t care, either. Have a nice day. Just have it somewhere else.

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There are many others….. these are just the three that have stuck out in my head.

So another year has rolled around. And I am *STILL* 25. Amazing.

Go ahead and email the obligatory nekkid photos to me. I promise to keep every one of them in a safe place.

I remember waking up that morning. My wife, Carrie, had already left for work. I was self-employed at the time and made my own hours.

I remember making coffee and half-awake, half-dressed, stumbling into my home office to sit at my desk to work.

I remember the phone call I got from Carrie telling me to turn on the news. Any news.

I remember the feeling of sadness and the pain I felt for all of those in the first tower. The men and women who were hurt or killed in this unfortunate “accident”.

I remember the shock of the plane striking the second tower. The stunned silence from me sitting in my chair watching it, and from the reporters trying, and failing, to tell the story.

I remember the collective realization of an entire country figuring out that this was no accident. We were being attacked.

I remember the horror of watching bodies fling themselves from windows multiple stories in the air rather than stay inside with the flames one more second.

I remember watching 2 gigantic steel structures crumble to the ground like they were made of paper.

I remember crying.

I remember that we were attempting to have our first child and turn us into a family.

I remember rethinking that decision. Did I really want to bring a child into a world where I was unsure of the future? A few moments on the news had me reconsidering my entire life.

I remember brave men and women risking, and too many times losing their lives, trying to help those who needed help.

I remember feeling helpless to assist them. I wanted to get in the car and drive to NYC to do whatever I could.

I remember the faces on TV just trying in vain to calm people as much as they possibly could.

I remember a third crash into the pentagon.

I remember being angry.

I remember a group of average people taking down an airplane and sacrificing their own lives to thwart a fourth attack.

I remember being proud of them.

I remember the hours, days, weeks after. Assessing damage. Sifting through rubble. Identifying bodies.

I remember the thought of friends and family that were enlisted in the military. Mixed emotions of worry for their future safety, and also wanting them to find the bastards that did this to exact our revenge.

I remember co-workers of Indian and Pakistani descent being afraid to come into work, or even leave their houses for days, just because their appearance somewhat matched that of those we blamed for all of this.

But the main thing…….

I remember.

Had to work late tonight. Another IT guy from our Ohio office came down to lend me a hand with our network change over. We didn’t get done until 7:30. Not too bad. Only a few hours in total. No major hiccups that we weren’t expecting.

But as I was leaving, I noticed a streak of lightning miles away. Crap. It was going to storm, and I am strapping my backpack to the bike. I start the bike to let it warm up a bit while I finish the backpack. My phone rings. I already have my jacket and wind breaker zipped up. I unzip them both real quick and answer the phone, just because it is xavi7734’s ring tone. Our daughter hasn’t been feeling well, and it could have been important. She is calling to see how soon I am leaving, because she is watching a storm form and doesn’t want me caught in it. heh heh I hastily answer “I just turned off the bike so I could hear you. So… Ummm… now!”

I get all my gear on, start the bike back up and head out of the parking lot, up the street, and towards the highway. As I get on the highway, a few drops of rain hit. The a few more. It isn’t really raining yet, but its about to. I get past exit 12 on my way home, where the highway goes from 3 lanes down to 2, and of course, with a few drops of water hitting the windshields, everyone slows to a crawl. For fucks sake people! Get out of the way. If you want to do 45 on the highway, do it in the left lane so I can get the hell out of here before it starts pouring. Did they? No. So here I am stuck in 45 MPH traffic for no damn reason.

I look over to my right, and I see a cop from a county quit north of us. I wont say where, just in case, but I will say he was quite far from his own jurisdiction. So that also tells me why everyone has slowed down, there is a cop visible on the road. Fucking great.

A few seconds later, I hear a horn. Its the cop. I look confused trying to figure out what he wants. He points at me and uses his fingers to show me the numbers “1″ and “3″….

WTF does that mean? I shrug my shoulders in what I am hoping is the universal sign language for “huh?” He points ahead… Uses his hand to simulate veering off to the right, and then repeats the “1″ and “3″ again…

OOOOH!!! Am I getting of at Exit 13!!! I shake my head no and take my hand off the clutch long enough to signal “1″ and “5″ which is quite a bit up the highway.

He points to himself. Then points in front of me. Then points to me. Then points behind me.

Got it. I ease off the throttle a bit to give him room to get in front of me. He moves over and turns on his blue lights. And of course, everyone immediately gets out of his way. We then proceed up the highway at a respectable speed. The road wasn’t wet yet so he had no problem going a little above the speed limit. On the way, before we hit exit 15, we passed two other guys on motorcycles in similar predicaments. They ended up joining me in the wake of this officer. I made it to exit 15, flashed my lights as a way to say thank you, and he continued on up the highway with the other guys behind him.

He must have cut 10 minutes off my commute. 15 or more if people would have continued going as slow as they were. I got off the exit, came through the center of town and pulled into my driveway just as it started to rain harder. I got into my garage with only the slightest bit of dampness on my backpack. By the way, the backpack contains my Digital SLR and Laptop. Not to mention a handful of lenses, memory cards, and a lot of other high dollar electronic equipment. So I am very thankful that I completely missed the rain.