HomeHome  CalendarCalendar  FAQFAQ  SearchSearch  RegisterRegister  MemberlistMemberlist  UsergroupsUsergroups  Log in  
Share | 
 

 The Story of Life.

View previous topic View next topic Go down 
AuthorMessage
puros_bran
Nightrider
avatar

Location : Brandenburg, Ky
Registration date : 2007-12-10

PostSubject: The Story of Life.    Sun Sep 11, 2011 1:32 am

I had to renew my license this week. The lady noticed my newest tattoo, a forearm portrait of Secretariat I had done in July, and commented that she normally doesn't like tats but that mine was nice. I offered up that what I did for a living. Next thing you know the entire office is at my window asking a million questions.
The next day a news reporter is hunting all over town looking for me. Now that about freaked me out. Lol. I haven't declined the interview but I will next tine I'm in town. Non-disclosure clauses and whatnot.

But the whole incident got me to thinking. Do they do Joe the Plumber or Mike the Mexhanic like that? No, but Joe and Mike have stories to tell too.
Why aren't they interested in their stories?
I am. So here's a chance.

Who are you? What have you sone? When was that? Where was it? How has it affected you? Etc ?

I'll tell the first one.

Back in 74-75 my mother and father were students at Moorehead State University. We lived in 'married student' housing. It was summertime and back then air conditioning was a luxury far outside a couple of young students, with two children, budget. The easy solution on a hot summer day was to open the doors in the shotgun shack and catch a breeze, and that's exactly what mom did. She would make a pallett on the floor out of blankets and plop me down right in the breezeway. On one of those hot summer days a small puppy found his way into the house. Small puppy, toddler in the floor, man that's like peanut butter and jelly. Now if the story ended there it'd be traditional American boy and his dig story, a classic. But it doesn't. You see that small toddler was asleep. The puppy pounced me, licking, tail wagging, get up and play. I didn't notice. What I saw as I was waking up was a vicious monster with huge fangs, foot long claws, and a club for a tail. I was horrified. Mom, as she has always been prone to do, swooped in and rescued me. She single handedly battled the monster and banished him to the far reaches of the galaxy, right outside the screen door. It was to late. I wouldn't lay in the dark. Would go until I collapsed even in the light. Every shadow hid 'the dream doggy'. He lurked behind every closed door, right around every corner.
I don't know how long that went on. Days,weeks, a month? I can imagine my bleary eyed parents, desperate for sleep, working on frayed nerves, discussing how to deal with it. 'We could force him to play with the puppy?' "no, that won't work" Several minutes of me crying 'what about the orphanage?'. "tempting but no,,"
Several more minutes of my squalling "I got it.." mom said. I don't know whose plan it was but my mom put out a lot of my fires growing up and my Gather abandoned us ( that'll be another story) so I'm giving her credit regardless of who thought it up.
My father is a little man. Not impressive, he doesn't stand out in a crowd. He's far from the hero type. I often wonder how he ever landed mom, who was a hottie back in the day, bit I digress. My Uncle Dallass on the other hand, 6'2 6'3 6'4 back in the day when 5'10 was tall. A Kentucky State Trooper. A classic good looking all American guy. He was a total prick I wouldn't have pissed on if he was on fire but I didn't know that for another 10-12 years. Back then he was next to God, and God better be good cause Uncle Dallas was a cop, just in case he didn't know.
I don't know if I spoke to him on the phone or if they just told me he was coming , but would you believe Uncle Dallas was coming the the 'dream doggy' It was on like donkey kong. Ok donkey kong wasn't invented yet, bit Dallas want coming either. Lol. I remember vividly Uncle Dallas coming up, waging an epic battle, and slaying that dread monster right outside my window. He shot him about 20-30 times with his revolver. Reality is that my father lit a pack of firecrackers outside, bit who needs reality when my Uncle almost came up and almost slayed the almost monster.
I still don't sleep much all these years later, and Cats are the bomb. Dogs vamt be trusted, look at em with their beady eyes and shifty gaze. Lol.

Ok, your turn. Tell me a story about you.


_________________
"Pacem en Puffing!"
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Airborne



Registration date : 2011-07-06

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Sun Sep 11, 2011 10:10 am

I got up early on this particular Saturday morning as I usually did to enjoy the only bit of meager cool air that the day was going to afford me. My daily ritual was simple: splash some water on my face, bush my teeth, boil some water for coffee (when the electricity was working - when it wasnt, stoke up the coal stove instead), turn on the radio to the BBC international news and fill my pipe.

I had been living in a small town about 15 clicks from the border with Cte d'Ivoire called Harper in the West African Republic of Liberia. I was on my ninth month of what would turn out to be a three-year stint in the Peace Corps. Mainly I taught English at the high school level, but I also did a few other things, depending on the season. I started an adult literacy school that turned out to be pretty popular as well as supervised hand-dug wells in some of the remote bush villages.

This particular day was no different than any other day. All was quiet in Harper. My small abode was a couple miles outside the main town near the airfield. It was on the route the market women took from their villages to the town to sell vegetables and fruit. On this day, the market women went by with their huge bowls balancing on their heads, vegetables and fruit overflowing its sides, and I, as usual, waved and greeted them. They usually giggled at my attempts at speaking one of the local languages called Grebo. I giggled back at them.

With my pipe loaded for action, and my coffee hot and ready to drink, I turned on the BBC to find out what was happening in the world. What I heard from the announcer would not only change my life for the next two years (and to a lesser extent, beyond), it would completely change the direction that Liberia would take forever. Every so often, something happens that leaves an everlasting imprint on history. Our American Revolution was one of those events. On this quiet Saturday morning, April 12, 1980, Liberia would have hers, but in a very different way.

From the BBC located in faraway London, I learned that in the early morning hours, a Liberian Master Sergeant named Samuel K. Doe, walked into the Executive Mansion in the capital of Monrovia with a small group of soldiers, assassinated President William Tolbert and took control of the government. While Harper remained quiet and life continued as usual, Monrovia was in turmoil. In the days that followed, nearly all the government ministers were arrested, tried in a kangaroo court, and taken to a beach and executed. The borders were locked down and the airport in the capital was closed - no incoming or outgoing traffic. Even if I wanted to leave the country, I was stuck. It wasn't going to happen.

My next two years in the country was an experience that would stay with me forever. In the background things were happening that would eventually come to fruition a few years after I left the country. Several groups of guerrilla fighters were organized by Liberians who were at odds not only with the military government, but also with each other. For the next 20 years, Liberia would experience some of the worse fighting any country had ever seen: a full blown civil war broke out. Ten year old boys would be wandering the streets of not only Monrovia but also Harper and everywhere in between, hopped-up on coke while carrying loaded AK-47s. The infrastructure of Monrovia had been completely decimated. Only in the last few years has there been an attempt at rebuilding the country. I suspect this will take another twenty years.

I am presently writing a fictionalized account of the 1980 coup. The first draft should be completed by the end of the year. For me, it all began when I turned on the BBC on that fine Saturday morning.



Last edited by Airborne on Sun Sep 11, 2011 10:50 am; edited 1 time in total
Back to top Go down
View user profile
puros_bran
Nightrider
avatar

Location : Brandenburg, Ky
Registration date : 2007-12-10

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Sun Sep 11, 2011 10:24 am

Cool story!! And not laden with grammatical error, typos, and misspelling like mine. Lol..

Next???

_________________
"Pacem en Puffing!"
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Dave_In_Philly

avatar

Age : 36
Location : Philly
Registration date : 2011-08-18

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Thu Sep 15, 2011 11:30 am

Nothing as interesting as either of the two above but to keep this thread going I will add:

I grew up in a suburb of NYC. When I was in high school I joined a volunteer ambulance corps. When I went to college in Albany I worked as an EMT at an private agency that provided ambulance to the Albany Fire Department - which technically provided 911 services (like FDNY in NYC) but didn't actually have ambulances (unlike FDNY). Because of the odd contract with the AFD my shifts were 6pm - 8am - which worked out nicely because classes didn't start until 10am.

Anyway, one Thursday morning at about 3:30 a call came in for a pregnant female. 99 out of a 100 of these calls are false alarms or the very beginnings of labor which only require transport to L&D, so I wasn't expecting much beyond a routine call. This particular call was in a section of Albany that was as close to an East Village Artsy-Fartsy neighborhood as Albany had (I imagine hipsters populate the area now). The apartment was in a beautiful old brownstone converted into a four story walk up. Of course this particular patient was on the fourth floor. As my partner and I were walking up the steps the first responders from the fire department were walking down laughing their heads off. As I walked into the apartment I could see straight through to the back bedroom where a twenty something year old woman was on the bed on her hands and knees completely naked. Her young husband was there with a hand held video camera recording everything for prosperity. We had to fight with her to get her to lay down so we could carry her out to the ambulance. Once in the Ambulance she insisted again on getting up onto her hands and knees, but we couldn't allow that because it would be terribly unsafe. Finally we convinced her to lay on her side and opened the cabinets that line the right side of the ambulance so she keep her one leg elevated and the she could hold on with her other hand (keeping her body in the same position as if she were on her hands and knees).

My partner (who strongly resembled Mr. Magoo) was driving that night. The particular hospital we transported to was not far away - less than 5 minutes with lights and sirens. At this time of night it was not particularly busy either. It was, however, one of those older style ERs without the drive through ambulance bays so we had to back the ambulance into parking spots designated by white lines. By the time we made it to the ER I knew we were close - there was no way we were going to make it upstairs to L&D but my goal was to get her into the ER where an MD could deliver. Well my partner missed the lines on his first attempt at backing up to the ER. I yelled to just park the stupid thing and let me out but he insisted on jockeying back and forth several times to get the ambulance perfect. Well, that killed our time window and by the time he put the stupid thing in park I knew there was no way.

Long story short - that was first time I delivered a baby in the back of an ambulance.

(Also anyone who has witnessed child birth knows that leaving those cabinets open was a really bad idea. We were there for hours afterwards cleaning equipment.)

I do believe that kid has just turned 10 years old.
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Airborne



Registration date : 2011-07-06

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Thu Sep 15, 2011 12:21 pm

Dave_In_Philly wrote:

Im sure as the kid grows up, hell want to meet you at some point since you played an important role in his coming into the world! Neat story.

Oh, I was going to ask you, have you ever eaten at Geno's Steaks? Heard they're the best!
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Dave_In_Philly

avatar

Age : 36
Location : Philly
Registration date : 2011-08-18

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Thu Sep 15, 2011 12:50 pm

Airborne wrote:

Im sure as the kid grows up, hell want to meet you at some point since you played an important role in his coming into the world! Neat story.

Funny you should say that. I have only been back to Albany a handful of times since I graduated, but even though I moved to Philly I still drive back to NY to volunteer for one shift a month with the corps I first started with. (It keeps me on the active roles and it forces me to spend time back home). Anyway, a woman who owns a Chinese take out joint that we frequent pretty often went into labor while at work and we had to deliver. That little girl now hangs out around the restaurant and I do see her every so often - she's about 7 or so now. It's a pretty neat feeling.

Airborne wrote:
Oh, I was going to ask you, have you ever eaten at Geno's Steaks? Heard they're the best!

Many times, though usually after a night out at the bars. Both Pat's and Geno's make decent sandwiches, but you can find better. The big guys have become more tourist attractions than anything else. If you ever find yourself in Philly I'd be happy to take you around to see for yourself.
Back to top Go down
View user profile
puros_bran
Nightrider
avatar

Location : Brandenburg, Ky
Registration date : 2007-12-10

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Thu Sep 15, 2011 3:42 pm

Cool. Keep it going guys. Airborne, you posted, you owe us a story.
I don't give a damn if it's about Uncle Lou that farted at the BBQ all the time. Just give us one. Very Happy

_________________
"Pacem en Puffing!"
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Airborne



Registration date : 2011-07-06

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Thu Sep 15, 2011 7:18 pm

Airborne wrote:
Oh, I was going to ask you, have you ever eaten at Geno's Steaks? Heard they're the best!

Many times, though usually after a night out at the bars. Both Pat's and Geno's make decent sandwiches, but you can find better. The big guys have become more tourist attractions than anything else. If you ever find yourself in Philly I'd be happy to take you around to see for yourself. [/quote]

Thank you, sir!
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Airborne



Registration date : 2011-07-06

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Thu Sep 15, 2011 7:24 pm

puros_bran wrote:
Cool. Keep it going guys. Airborne, you posted, you owe us a story.
I don't give a damn if it's about Uncle Lou that farted at the BBQ all the time. Just give us one. Very Happy

You knew my Uncle Lou? Laughing

I wrote one already! Someone else's turn. If there are 8 million stories in the Naked City, there ought to be a few on BoB! cheers


Last edited by Airborne on Fri Sep 16, 2011 7:14 am; edited 1 time in total
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Doc Manhattan
BoB's Team
avatar

Age : 38
Location : Land of Steady Habits
Registration date : 2008-05-26

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Thu Sep 15, 2011 7:50 pm

I got one... bear in mind, it's a second-hand story. I was there, but I was... 3? 2 maybe? Anyway, this really happened, even if it's gotten a little "improved" by many many tellings:

So it was back in the spring of... 81ish. My cousin is graduating from Yale Law School, and my little branch on the family tree lives twenty minutes from New Haven, so we go to cheer him on.

It was an outdoor graduation. Sunny spring day. And my grandparents, they should rest in peace, were chronically early to everything. So we had great seats, but we also had hours to wait. And that feels like weeks to a little boy who doesn't know what Yale or lawyers or even Cousin David means. I can stay quiet, but I can't stay still.

I start swinging my legs.

Did I mention these are densely-packed rows of folding chairs on the lawn? Open-backed chairs?

So, sooner or later, I swing my legs and plant my sneaker on the posterior of the guy sitting in front of me. He turns around. He's not happy about it.

Oh, and it's Henry Kissinger.

Obviously my family apologizes. Dr. Kissinger grumbles and turns back around. I have no idea what's going on, of course, and suffer through the rest of the graduation, but I walk away with a topper:

I kicked Henry Kissinger's ass.

_________________
"You know what's right with this world? Nothin'!"
-Oscar, "Grouch Anthem"
Back to top Go down
View user profile http://tobaccocellar.org/tinlist.php?cellar=808
mark
Admin
avatar

Registration date : 2008-07-02

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Thu Sep 15, 2011 9:57 pm

Hell Doc,,,you're famous,,, that's a great story.

I posted a story a couple days ago but I was half lit (alright totally lit) at the time feeling down at the death of a very close friend. After re-reading it I pulled it cause it sounded so freakin pathetic. Bourbon + grieving =,,,well it isn't good,,,,so I'll try again,,,

I was sighting in my black powder rifle getting ready for a regional target competition. A new neighbor stopped in to say Hi and was interested in my rifle. After showing him the basics of loading and firing, he touched off a few rounds and did quite well. I mentioned the shoot I was going to and asked him to come along. He thought it was a good idea so the next weekend we drove to the meet. I talked him into entering and paid his entry fee explaining, it doesn't matter how well you do as long as you have fun. The novice and I shared my rifle for the day taking our time, enjoying ourselves. The targets were collected by the judges downrange but with no spotting scope I had very little idea how well I had done against the competition. We traveled the shooting line, him striking up conversations with lots of the guys, asking questions about loads, powder and barrels. I could see he was hooked on black powder and told him about the early primitive deer season coming up, and I'd help him get everything he needed if he was interested. At the end of the day the scores were posted and I won't comment on where I placed, but this novice I had brought along placed third in a field of over 75. Some of the oldtimers started in on me about being beat with my own rifle, beginners luck, and me making him walk home after whipping my ass. Dropping him off at his house, I was invited in for a beer. In a rack on the wall were several black powder rifles that he had built from scratch, barrel and all, and a shelf with a pile of plaques and trophies from state meets across the country. After the laughter died down I asked him if he still wanted my help getting equipped for deer season. He's gone now, but I've got great memories.

_________________
.

Sometimes I wake up grumpy. Other times I let her sleep.
.
Back to top Go down
View user profile
puros_bran
Nightrider
avatar

Location : Brandenburg, Ky
Registration date : 2007-12-10

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Fri Sep 16, 2011 2:31 am

HA!!! Fine Business Indeed.
A guy scared of puppies, an aide worker trapped by a coupe, baby deliveries, a Henry kissenger asswhoopin, and Mark getting played.
This is great so far. Lovin it!!

Come on guys, tell us a story!

_________________
"Pacem en Puffing!"
Back to top Go down
View user profile
bazsup

avatar

Age : 56
Registration date : 2008-08-11

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Fri Sep 16, 2011 11:05 am

Okay, this is nowhere near as dramatic but it makes me smile when I think of it. I was following behind a pickup truck for several miles. It had a beagle in the back who was just looking around and seemed pretty happy. Now my mind wanders as it tends to do and I think, "Sure hope that beagle doesn't jump for freedom. It could get hurt". I convince myself after a mile or so to stop thinking about it because in some strange way if I think about it too much maybe it would happen and I don't want to see the pup hurt. Well wouldn't you know it, at the next stop light out jumps the dog and the truck drives away. I stop and open the door of my '72 Ford Maverick to check on the dog and he jumps in the front seat with me.

Now I have to find that truck so I step on it, as much as you can in a '72 Maverick, and try to chase him down with the dog jumping on my lap and licking my face. After a couple of lights I catch him and I beep my horn. He gives me the finger so I pull up next to him at the light, beep and point to the pup. He gives me a look like "I have a dog just like that" when he realizes that it's his. He gets out of truck and grabs the pup who tinkles on me as I hand him over. He puts him in the back of truck again and speeds off.

See, when you try to someone a favor you sometimes get pixxed on.

Back to top Go down
View user profile
puros_bran
Nightrider
avatar

Location : Brandenburg, Ky
Registration date : 2007-12-10

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Fri Sep 16, 2011 11:18 am

Bro. I think that pup was trying to pick a better owner.

_________________
"Pacem en Puffing!"
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Harlock999

avatar

Location : Los Angeles
Registration date : 2010-10-22

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Fri Sep 16, 2011 11:21 am

puros_bran wrote:
Bro. I think that pup was trying to pick a better owner.

Definitely!
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Airborne



Registration date : 2011-07-06

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Fri Sep 16, 2011 11:35 am

Doc Manhattan wrote:
I kicked Henry Kissinger's ass.

Now you won't find that in the history books! Shocked
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Airborne



Registration date : 2011-07-06

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Fri Sep 16, 2011 11:44 am

Great stories, - all! Yes, keep 'em coming, folks!

Thanks, puros_bran, for starting this thread. cheers
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Milan



Registration date : 2011-03-17

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Fri Sep 16, 2011 3:08 pm

I was one of those teenagers who made sure I received my driver's license the day I turned 16. I got my temps when I was 15 and a 1/2, completed driver's education classes, and did my required hours behind the wheel so that I could take the test and get my license on my birthday.

My parents had always been fans of station wagons. I had grown up being schlogged around in a 1977 Pontiac Grand Safari woody wagon, complete with vinyl green seats. That particular wagon was donated to charity about a month prior to my 16th birthday. My mother cried for days.

Our family made due with only one car, as we awaited the delivery of the newly ordered 1993 Buick Roadmaster woody wagon, complete with navy blue leather seats. My father was so proud of the fact the new wagon would be sporting actual leather seats, a first for him. The family looked at brochures of the wagon as my father talked about how it was the longest and heaviest vehicle on the road. He couldn't wait to get it.

The wagon arrived just days before my birthday. It was a special moment. The family had a new station wagon and I was about to start driving. I think you can tell where this story is going?

I got my license and a few days later was given permission to take the new wagon over to visit my friends. So I picked them up and naturally headed out to the country roads just outside of town to see what this Roadmaster could do. We were having fun listening to music when all of a sudden I couldn't handle the sharp turn and hit a patch of black ice. The wagon spun 360 degrees in the middle of the road and then slammed into a deep ditch. I was scared. My father was going to kill me. We managed to climb out of the wagon and walked about a quarter mile up the road to the closest house. I asked the woman if I could use her phone and she kindly let me into her home. I called my father and told him what happened. He told me know matter what, 'do not call the police'. He told me to call a tow truck and see if it was driveable. Otherwise, have it pulled out and towed to the garage, but 'don't call the police'. I called the tow truck and the guy showed up. He asked to see my license and registration. I showed it to him and he laughed. "You've had your license 2 days and the car for less than a week"? I replied, "Yes". He couldn't wait to tell someone about this one. He asked if the police were on the way and I told him that wouldn't be necessary and to just pull the wagon out. He laughed again, but did it. I got in the wagon and drove it home. It made the worst grinding sound you've ever heard in your life and would not accelerate over 40mph.

I got home and my old man came out to look at the car. He was silent for about a minute and then began kicking the bumper yelling that it was a piece of shit over and over, turned around, and walked back into the house. I followed him in and we sat there in silence for the rest of the night until I went to bed.

Back to top Go down
View user profile
Bub

avatar

Registration date : 2007-12-15

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Fri Sep 16, 2011 4:51 pm

These are all great stories.
My contribution concerns three accomplishment:
(1) I was very overweight in high school and top the scales at 226 lbs with a 42 inch waste. One comment that I remember to this day was "we don't mean to embarrass you, but we were trying to guess your weight" (notice the quotes). Try going to a swimming pool in high school and feeling like you are at the polar bear exhibit at the zoo. My problem, of course, was over eating. My favorite snacks were peanut/jelly Dagwood sandwich. After enough stares and general bad feelings about my situation I lost over 50 pounds and graduated at a svelt 175 pounds. While it has been an uphill strugle ever since, I have never hit my previous maximum.
(2) Many years later I completed a century (100 mile) bike ride. I enjoyed short bike rides and was never good with the mechanical aspects of bikes. I had a flat about 5 miles into the ride just after everyone sped off. I was able to get the wheel off the bike, remove the tire, repiar the flat, get the damn wheel back on the bike and finsih the ride. My memories are that the last part of the ride was the easiest and it was great getting off the bike, drinking a beer and eating a hot dog.
(3) I earned a PhD degree and published papers in peer review journals.The sad part of the world today is that people's careers can be cut short.

Bub
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Lesath

avatar

Location : The Ozarks
Registration date : 2011-07-22

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Sat Sep 17, 2011 8:18 am


(Also anyone who has witnessed child birth knows that leaving those cabinets open was a really bad idea. We were there for hours afterwards cleaning equipment.)

Much like running a code with a GI bleed.
Back to top Go down
View user profile
LtMac

avatar

Age : 56
Location : Jackson, Tennessee
Registration date : 2008-06-10

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Sat Sep 17, 2011 8:39 am

I hope its OK to tell two stories in one post.

When I was around 3 years old (this would be 1963) I had a friend my age named Darryl who lived next door. My parents had just purchased a new clothes washer/dryer. Our house didn't have a utility room, so the washer/dryer were installed in the garage attached to our house. Darryl and I were playing "Washing Machine" in the garage (remember, we were only 3 years old or so) and I put Darryl in the front-load clothes dryer. I slammed the door shut and managed to climb up on top of it and turn it on. Then, I got scared when I heard Darryl banging around inside the dryer and climbed down, but I didn't have the strength to open the door. I remember running as fast as I could to my dad, who was in the backyard and yelling "Daddy, Darryl's in the dryer!". Of course my dad ran to the garage and I ran behind him and stood there as my dad opened the dryer door. I will never forget when the door was opened I saw Darryl spinning around and around with his back plastered to the back of the spinning drum and his face was white as a ghost. We never played "Washing Machine" again. Embarassed

I have been a deputy sheriff in Tennessee for almost 25 years. About 6 or 7 years ago 2 officers on my shift were dispatched to an upscale neighborhood in our county at around 7:00 a.m. with report of a suspicous man going from door to door at homes asking for a female by name. When the deputies arrived they located the man and began interviewing him as to what he was doing. As a matter of policy/standard procedures, they radioed dispatch for a warrants check on the man. Our department held an active arrest warrant on the man and the deputies began to arrest him when he began fighting and tring to make his way to his vehicle parked nearby in the street. When they requested assistance, I responded to the scene as their supervisor. When I arrived, they had the man in custody and secured in a patrol car, but each officer had ripped shirts, bleeding scratches, etc. As other officers were busy on the scene with various duties, I began inventorying the vehicle 's contents and writing each item on a vehicle tow-in report form. I unzipped a backpack and the first item I removed was a green nylon camera case for a 35mm camera. I unzipped the case and in my hands was a hand grenade with no pin inserted. I gently sat the hand grenade down on the grassy shoulder of the neighborhood street, backed away and notified my department for assistance. A supervisor from the on-coming shift responded to my location as he has had extensive explosives training. He was unfamiliar with the grenade and following procedures he contacted the U.S. Army Odinance Disposal Team from an area Army Post. They asked him to describe the grenade and as he did, they asked him if it had a crystalized substance along the top and he replied that it did indeed. They told him to stack 2-3 auto tires over the grenade vertically because if wind disturbed the crystallized surface the grenade would detonate and the then told him they were responding to our location. I called the fire dept, electric dept, natural gas dept, etc to the scene as deputies began evacuating houses in the area. When the natural gas dept. arrived, they looked at the area for a few moments and then called me aside. They told me our problem had just gotten larger-unbeknown to me, I had sat the live grenade down on the ground directly on top of a buried 6 inch main natural gas line. We evacuated a larger area and when the Army team arrived they secured the grenade and put it in an armored canister for transport to a safe area for detonation. They also found a home-made bomb in the vehicle that the man owned--I didn't find it because I stopped looking and performing the inventory when I discovered the grenade. I later found out that the man was going door to door searching for his ex-wife whom he intended to destroy as well as himself with the explosive devices. To top off the last story, when I responded to that call I left my pipe and tobacco pouch at home, where I had been eating breakfast on my meal break. I had to work 6 hours overtime with no pipe or tobacco! Evil or Very Mad



LtMac
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Milan



Registration date : 2011-03-17

PostSubject: Re: The Story of Life.    Sat Sep 17, 2011 9:47 am

I've hiked sections of the Appalachian Trail on and off over the years, but this story was told to me by one of my fellow hikers and was not a first hand experience.

I will call the hiker 'Swank' for the sake of this story. 'Swank' had hiked into Front Royal, Virginia to take a day off. While he was staying in town he learned that a couple had been murdered the night before and the authorities were looking for their son. 'Swank' left town to hit the trail in the late afternoon so that he could hike the 2 miles into the campsite before dark. As he came up on the lean-to at the campsite he noticed a roll of burlap with something in it. He picked it up, unrolled it, and saw large knives, saws, and other bladed instruments that were covered in blood. There was no one around and it was getting dark as he flashed back to the story of the murdered couple. 'Swank' decided to hike back towards the road so that he could try and get a phone signal. Not to mention, he did not feel safe enough to stay at the campsite. He called the authorities when he got back to the road and the local sheriff declined to come out to the trail at night and remarked that they would check it out in the morning. 'Swank' pitched a tarp a few feet in the woods from the road that night, deciding to wait for the sheriff in the morning. The sheriff and his deputy showed up the next morning and 'Swank' hiked back to the campsite with the deputy. There were no signs of life and the saws and blades rolled in burlap were right where he'd found them. They decided to hike a little beyond the campsite and ended up finding a corpse. It was a teenage boy with a revolver in his hand.

The boy had shot both his parents while sleeping, cut their corpses up in pieces, ran out to the trail with his bloody instruments, and decided to kill himself. I have always loved hiking on the Appalachian Trail, but you never know what you're going to run across in life.
Back to top Go down
View user profile
 
The Story of Life.
View previous topic View next topic Back to top 
Page 1 of 1
 Similar topics
-
» Another sniffer dog story
» Cody's Story
» CELEBRATING LOVE AND LIFE!
» Channel 4 Thursday 1st April Lost Abroad - The Parents Story
» Too Big For Your Britches

Permissions in this forum:You cannot reply to topics in this forum
Brothers of Briar :: Community :: Life Events-
Jump to: