Category: General

My liquor store and my general practitioner doctor are next door to each other.

I’m blogging from my sexy new iPhone!

SOFA KING COOL.

I am now an iPhone owner.

I am not yet an iPhone user.

That’s because I’m waiting until tomorrow to activate the phone and move my service from T-Mobile to AT&T. I don’t want there to be any confusion on T-Mobile’s part about my contract.

Yes, as a matter of fact, it is difficult to just see that sexy iPhone sitting there… taunting me… and not be able to use it.

Tomorrow’s gonna be like Christmas morning…

Just heard from the Apple Store. My laptop is repaired and ready to be picked up.

Hmmm… wasn’t there something else I needed at the Apple Store?

Today is the final day of my contract with T-Mobile.

Just sayin’.

She sat one seat ahead of me on the bus. She was dressed in comfortable jeans that had seen a million wear-wash-dry cycles. A warm soft sweater. A hoodie. Clogs. Her brownish-red hair was pulled back with a simple rubber band. No makeup that I could see on her pale, freckled face. Glasses. She appeared to be in her early 30s, though everyone will tell you I am a poor judge of age.

Her posture was tired and slumped. Her knees pressed up against the seat in front of her, her feet dangling, her body curled into a comfortable curlycue. She would lean into the window, her cheek pressed against the cool glass, where outside it was raining, pouring, somewhere an old man snoring, oh, no, that’s thunder or the roar of passing traffic.

I know she wasn’t dressed up. I know she was dressed in comfortable, comforting clothes. I could tell she had a bit of the geek in her, a little bit of social misfit. It felt familiar to me. I could look out from my turned-up collar, my lower face shrouded in gray scarf, from eyes shaded from the pale fluorescent light by the brim of my battered baseball cap, and I felt a connection. We were both shielding ourselves from human contact with our unkempt clothing.

I watched her thumb through and occasionally read from a pamphlet on exercise and diet. I wondered if she had just come from a doctor’s office. Was her apparent sadness due to an illness? She did not look overweight to me, even in her oversized clothes. I wanted to say something to her, anything.

I said nothing.

Her stop arrived, one stop before my own. She stood, turned, walked off the bus, and vanished into the gray deluge. The doors closed. The bus continued. I rang the bell.

I stood up… and looking into the seat she had just vacated, there was a white plastic bag, with two bottles just visible inside, one a medicinal green, the other a warm and healthy red. As the bus stopped for me, without a conscious thought, I grabbed the bag, and dove out the door, and ran back towards the other stop.

She was sick, and she left her prescription on the bus! I could find her, and return it to her, and be a hero!

My shoes splashed in the puddles, the rain beat down on me, ran into my eyes… I ran the two blocks back to her stop, the bag dangling from my hand.

She was nowhere to be seen. I looked all directions, but she had gone. Where, I could not tell. I tried a couple of options but no luck.

Gone.

I walked back to my house. Rain still poured down on me. I had had a story, had seen how it would have been in that instant before grabbing the bag and leaping off the bus. That story did not coalesce. I wondered now if I had actually prevented her from getting her medicine back, rather than helping her find it. Surely she would notice she had left the bag behind, and she would first try to contact Tri-Met, but they would not be able to help her.

In the rain, my brain came up with another story; these were prescriptions, and oftentimes the patient’s name is printed on the labels. Once I got home, I could look her up, and call her to let her know I had saved her medicine, and her health. It was raining hard so I had to wait until I was safely inside and dry.

When I opened the bag, in the warmth of my living room, however, I saw not two bottles of medicine, but a small green bottle of dishwashing soap, and a small red bottle of laundry detergent. No receipt. No identifying information at all.

So that explained why she was wearing her comfy clothes…

Tip o’ the hat to Kevin!

I was going about 65 MPH in a section marked for 50. I’d been driving aggressively the whole trip. Been listening to Creedence Clearwater Revival, Chronicle Vols. 1 & 2, and in a reflective, sad, mood. I’d passed the last bit of traffic a few minutes ago, and there appeared to be no one ahead of me, at least as far as I could see on that twisting mountain road.

Just past the summit of Murphy Hill, in the Van Duzer Corridor, I came over the top of a rise, and the road curved to the left and downhill, and I turned into the corner.

And felt the back end of the car start slipping, as if it wanted to be in the front.

I turned into the skid, I think. I’m pretty sure.

The accident is just flashes of images and the sounds of metal and glass, underscored by the sudden static on the radio when my iPod lost its FM transmitter with the first impact.

I briefly got control of the car again, but had slid into the oncoming lane. Since I couldn’t see very far ahead, I pulled the steering wheel back to the right to get back in my own lane… And over-corrected.

The car snapped around, clockwise, to the right. Hard. I was out of control. I smashed the brake a couple of quick times but it was pointless.

The front of the car smashed into the guard rail. Up until this moment, I still remember thinking that I could pull out of this spin. When I saw, heard, and felt the impact, though, my thought was immediately of the expense of this crash, and the danger to myself.

The car bounced off the guard rail and continued spinning. I was facing the wrong way in my lane. No cars coming. The car continued spinning, and the tail end must have smacked the guard rail. I say must have because I don’t remember that impact.

I was straightening out the steering wheel when the car slowed enough to let me steer it. I was again in the far lane, so to get out of the way I aimed for the far side of the road. It was closer. It was also wider and not on the outside of the corner. I pulled to a stop and sat there. Smoke poured out from under the smashed hood. I turned off the radio. I took off my seat belt.

I pulled out my cell phone but my hands shook too much to dial.

I don’t know how much longer I sat there. I saw one car go by, a dark SUV. They slowed but did not stop. But soon, another car pulled up in front of me, going east, and a lady and her husband got out. Her name was Heather, and I apologize but I do not recall the husband’s name. She repeatedly asked me if I was OK, and in my shock, I discovered that I felt pretty good, physically. My right hand and arm hurt, but I could move my head, my legs felt shaky but still there. I could breathe. There was no blood.

I explained that I was trying to call my sister, that I was on my way to Lincoln City for Thanksgiving, that this was a rental car. Heather offered to call for me. I pulled up the number for her and handed her my phone. Another piece of luck: I had full service, all five bars on my phone. Lisa didn’t answer, so I found Betsy’s number and handed the phone back. I laughed a bit at hearing Heather’s end of the conversation as she explained to Betsy first that I was all right, and then started to fill in the details. My sister and her husband were on their way to get me soon enough.

The trooper on the scene was serious but friendly, and I did not lie or hide any details from him. Yes, it was a rental. My insurance was through American Express, due to my renting the car on my card. I was driving about 65 when the accident occurred. My family was on their way.

So much luck that was in my favor: no other traffic or cars involved, no other people hurt, I was only about 10-15 minutes away from rescue by my sister, full cell phone service. And the trooper decided, due to my honesty, the holiday, and the fact that wrecking a rental is already a pain in the ass, to not cite me, for which I am eternally grateful.

Part of me wants to be cocky, to dismiss it as a lark. “Oh, I used up this rental car, oops, whatever.” But another part of me realizes how much worse it could have been. It is what it is. I haven’t yet imbued it with meaning – that will come in time.

For now, I’m happy I am still here. Still happy to be here. That’s enough for now.

Put a candle in the window,
’cause I feel I’ve got to move.
Though I’m going,
going,
I’ll be coming home soon,
‘Long as I can see the light.

Pack my bag and let’s get moving,
’cause I’m bound to drift a while.
When I’m gone,
gone,
you don’t have to worry long,
‘Long as I can see the light.

I’ll never hear that song in quite the same way again, I fear.

First name of the Oregon State Trooper who stopped at the scene of my accident: Ryan.

First name of the Apple Store Genius who confirmed the damaged hard drive in my MacBook Pro: Ryan.

The wait at the Genius Bar was about a half-hour after my Concierge “scheduled” time, which would normally be quite irritating, especially on a Saturday during Hell Month (which is what current and former retail employees call the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas; I still have nightmares about my 6 Christmases working at the mall). But for whatever reason I was patient, and I was friendly with Ryan the Genius. He booted the laptop on an external drive, ran Disk Utitlity, saw the error, noted it, and filled out the paperwork for the repair.

The longest delay was when he tried to find out if they had the drive in stock, but no luck. They’d have to order it, which wouldn’t arrive ’til Tuesday, at best.

Hush, hush, keep it down now. Voices carry. Argh.

The best part, though, was when Apple Genius Ryan (they must get so much shit because Apple decided to call their tech support “Geniuses”) found out I was using Quicken. I mentioned it as the one file I would like them to save off the hard drive if they could. He started asking me about setting Quicken up to download transactions from Bank of America. Heh. I tried to help as best I could (I could use a little karma this weekend) but I’m afraid my vague answers were unsatisfying. Hey, at least I tried.

So I’m new sexy thing-less until the end of the week, assuming the part comes in as expected, they get the repair done quickly, and they don’t decide the drive failed due to negligence on my part, which Apple can do (as I know too well, having worked in Apple tech support in Austin, TX in a previous life). Ugh.

Gee… sure would be nice to have an iPhone right about now…

No “Did You See..?” post because it was saved on the hard drive of my new sexy thing… which has chosen today to refuse to boot up.

Yes, the hard drive in my laptop appears tosted a nice golden brown. Worked all weekend, but as soon as I got home and tried to use it, it started making click-y death noises, then locked up. I rebooted and found the “folder with a question mark” staring back at me.

Long story short… gone, daddy, gone.

Yay. Thanksgiving.

Off to the Apple Store I go…