TANSTAAFL Meme

Well, BabsRN tagged me for this one a while back, and to be honest, I've been trying to come up with something suitable for a while. What with the move and all I've had other things on my mind, so it didn't get done in a timely fashion.

My sincere apologies to Babs for falling down on the job.

So, here it is.

The immortal Robert Anson Heinlein wrote in his book The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress that There Ain't No Such Thing As A Free Lunch. Says the character Manuel Garcia O'Kelly: "Otherwise, these drinks would cost half as much."

Too true, Manny, too true.

Fr'instance, what the hell do you think all those free samples are? Free samples of Oil of Olay skin conditioning whale sperm, or whatever it is, look at the price on the full size bottle, and its outrageous. The bottle looks like something that would come in a my little homemaker set, and its close to ten dollars, while the ingredients listed are almost exactly the same as the giganto bottle next to it, which is off brand, the same price, and four times the amount.

I will admit to being somewhat of a brand nazi on certain things, mostly food, but FFS people, when you can get something that's exactly the same as the fancy brand, no noticeable difference in effectiveness or aesthetics other than the lack of spiffy graphics on the bottle, why in the world are you paying out the nose for the brand name?

All those extra dollars go into giving out those free samples, and slapping those spiffy graphics on the packaging.

And people fall for the "free" crap.

A friend of mine is deeply in lust with the Victoria's Secret line of perfumes. She loves them, but can rarely afford a full bottle. However, she does buy their underwear, and whatever the heck else they sell in that store. One time they gave her an itty bitty bottle of their newest perfume as a "free gift."

I thought the girl was gonna wet herself.

"OhmygodI'vebeenwantingabottleofthisformonthsohmygod!"

"Yeah how much you figure it set you back?"

"Oh no, it was free."

"You just paid twenty dollars for a set of underwear that makes three bandaids and some fishing line look like a Mormon's second skin. I could make that crap for less than they paid starving Indonesian children to sew it. You did not get that perfume for free."

Folks, free is never free, be it favors, goods, or services. We live in a society of commerce, and the fact that people have been convinced that a "free gift" is really free saddens me.

Hell, even that broken down nastily stained couch that you found on a corner, that you strongly suspect might have been used in a murder or to stash the body, judging by the smell, costs you the time and effort to get it back to the hovel you call a house/apartment/dorm room.

As for tagging...well, I'm not much of a tagger, so I'll let this thread die with me. Maybe someday when I have more contacts in the world of blogging, I'll tag people, but for now, I'm afraid if I try they'll hurt me for touching them. I just don't know folks that well!

*Disclaimer: I don't know that Victoria's Secret uses starving Indonesian children to sew their skimpy underwear. They probably don't. But thats the conversation pretty much as it happened. Oh, and yes, I have seen the "Murder Couch." I was asked to help move the Murder Couch, but declined gracefully, on the basis that I'd already had my yearly exposure to blood borne diseases and decomposing bodily fluids.

When things go wrong... Part III

The scenery was flying by, and I was honking my horn going by workers on reflex, not consciously, as I contemplated the problem before me. If I had one of the company pickups I could load people in the back, but I didn’t.

Nothing for it, then, they’ll just have to sit on laps.

I was headed for the south end of the site to pick up a bunch of civilians, and haul them into one of the worst scenes of crunched metal and injured people I’d ever seen, even on TV. Somehow, it just felt wrong to be the one who was going to take them into that.

“Boss Lady, you got a copy?”

“10-4, what do you need Farmgirl?”

“I’m headed south to pick up some civvys, say they’ve got training, and haul them down to the hole. Paramedic cleared it.”

“10-4, you should have some extra flaggers down there too, I know you know what to do with them. Set up the detour at 116, for the semis. By then you should have Tina there to take over the organization, and Owner Lady will have the north. I’m gonna want you in the hole. We gotta clear out some of the vehicles that weren’t directly involved.”

Boss Lady sounded apologetic. I wanted to snarl at her. I knew what to do, out here. I could keep my game face on and deal with problems as they arose in a calm manner. I wasn’t sure I could maintain that in the middle of the chaos in the hole.

Huh, we’re not calling it “the accident” or “the gigantic, screaming clusterfuck in the middle”.. we’re just calling it “the hole.” Yay for distancing tactics, I guess.

“10-4, Boss Lady. Have I told you lately that I hate you?”

“Not lately, you can tell me when we’re done here.”

“Bet on it. Do you want me to bring an extra flagger down?”

“No, we’re gonna be short handed as it is. Just get yourself down there.”

“10-4.”

I reached the south end, and stopped at the flagger’s station. I grabbed a notebook and a pen on my way out of the car and called the flaggers who were standing around over to me as I slapped the pad down on my trunk and began drawing a map.

“Ok here’s what we’re gonna do. All the cars that will, turn ‘em around and head ‘em back to town. If they want to sit tight they can, but make sure that they know that it will be hours before the highway is cleared. Will, not might. Explain what’s going on in as short a manner as you can. Big accident, highway totally blocked, gonna be a while, that kind of thing. Don’t take the time to chit chat, offer them the choice, and tell them that if they turn around and go back to town, they have to pull over and stop if they see emergency vehicles of any kind coming from either direction. Remind them that it’s the law. Semis, if they want to sit, let them sit. If they’re antsy, tell them the only place we can send them is down 116 into Kansas, and they should take a moment to plot out where they’re going. If they take the first right in Kansas they’ll go back to Johnson, take a right at Johnson on 160 and they’ll come back into Colorado, and back to this highway south of town. They can hit the truck stop there, or they can go whatever the hell way they want to when they get to Kansas, but they CAN NOT come back. Don’t try to tell every semi, grab a couple and have them start broadcasting on the CB. Then grab a couple more further down the line.”

I looked up, noticing faces for the first time. Most of them I recognized, and there were enough of them that I trusted to do things right to cover the important spots. Good. I designated two to start down the line, and talk to people, tell them what was going on.

“Tell them if they’re going to stay, to pull off on the shoulder so that we can keep traffic flowing. By the time we get things moving, we should only be seeing semis up here. You,” and I pointed to the flagger for the south end, “will hold traffic here until I give you the go-ahead. Do not send me traffic until I tell you to. And don’t talk on the radio unless you absolutely have to. That’s all the battery we have.” He nodded.

“You guys,” and I indicated the two I’d designated to do the PR part, and talk to people, “be polite, but firm. If anyone gives you problems, you’ll have to deal with it yourselves, we don’t have enough hands. Leapfrog each other until you run out of line, and then come back up here to catch the ones we haven’t gotten out yet. Make sure the semis know that the speed limit is still forty five, and anyone we suspect of speeding, we will write down the license number, company, and truck number, and we’ll report them. We can get the ticket mailed to them, and we’ll report them to their company, as well. Now, you guys get to work.”

They took off for their vehicles, one flipping around to park two or three cars back and run back towards the front of the line, and the other heading further down.

“What about us?” One of the flaggers I didn’t recognize asked.

“You guys are going to be the backup system. You’re going to 116 and form a human wall to turn the trucks. Tina will be here soon and she’ll have more for you to do but for now just get them headed for Kansas. Watch for our workers and ambulances coming out. Got it? Good, go.”

They left, and I climbed back into my car to go find the people I was supposed to cram in and haul back to where I really didn’t want to go.

I spotted the vest I’d loaned out, more than recognized the guy, and stopped near him.

“They’re all gathered over there, and ready to go.”

“Good, give me back my vest, and get back in your car. You can pull off on the shoulder and wait or you can head back to town but whatever you do, don’t get out of your car and go wandering around on the highway again. You can stretch your legs in the ditch. I appreciate your help, and I’m sure everyone else does too.”

“I’ll wait, that town is going to be packed.”

“Fine.”

I had climbed out of my car during this exchange, and stepped between two cars to find my would-be heroes standing in a tight group, introducing themselves and shifting nervously on their feet.

“Good, you’re all acquainted. I hope you’re feeling friendly, come with me.”

“WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?!?”

I turned to see a big man, chest puffed out and potbelly straining the buttons of his plaid work shirt, standing behind me, looking sharply down at me.

“Pardon?”

“I said, what the hell is your problem, I’ve been sitting here for an hour and a half and I want to know what the fuck kind of operation you people are running!”

Oh, great.

“Sir, we’re running a construction site. However, there’s been an accident within the site and the highway is completely blocked. If your vehicle is a car or pickup, please feel free to turn around and head back to town to wait. Our best estimation is that it’s going to be hours before we can clear the highway. If your vehicle is a semi, we can re-direct you over into Kansas and you can make your way from there.” I tried to turn back to the group of people, but he grabbed my shoulder.

“You bitch, I can’t go to Kansas, I have to be in Denver tonight!”

“Sir, please take your hand off of me.” My patience was running thin.

“The hell I will!” And his grip tightened. The good samaritans started to step forward, doubtless to save me from the big bad man.

“Yes, sir, you will.” And I reached up and grabbed his pinky, bending it back towards his wrist until he released me. He growled and raised his hand as if to hit me and my patience broke.

“Listen, asshole, hitting me won’t change the fact that you don’t have a fucking choice. You can sit your happy ass on the shoulder, or you can go to Kansas. Period. And, if you swing on me, I promise you I will not take it meekly, and I will hurt you. Now, you’re holding me up and I have a job to do, a job that could save people’s lives. Get the fuck back into whatever smelly fucking seat you were in five minutes ago, and get the hell out of my face.”

The guy stepped closer to me, looking down, trying to intimidate me with his height, and said, “You couldn’t hurt me, you probably punch like a gnat.”

I stepped closer to him, craning my neck to look up into his beard stubbled face. I had to convince this guy that he should be a little more respectful, and do what he was told, and I had to do it fast.

Damnit, I’m going to have to pull the psycho act…

“I didn’t say that I would punch you. I would never trade punches with someone your size. No, what I’ll do, is I’ll grab your nuts, that is, if I can find them, and I’ll take them home with me.” I pulled my handy-dandy work pocket knife out of my pocket and flicked it open.

“And then, sir, I’ll nail them to my fucking wall.” And I pointed the knife at his manly bits.

“You wouldn’t.” His voice had lost some of its edge.

“Do you want to try me?” And I gave him a sunny smile. “I’ve been looking for a new addition to my collection, you know.”

He looked at me like I was crazy, and went back to his truck.

“Come on, guys, time’s a wasting.”

I managed to get them all stuffed in, although there were two more than I had been told, and it would look like a circus act when we got to where we were going. First though, I had a stop to make.

I pulled over at 116 and jumped out, making sure that everyone there knew what they were supposed to do, before I turned off my radio and handed it over.

“Leave it turned off unless one of the others dies. When Tina gets here… Oh, there she is.”

I saw one of the company vehicles coming towards the intersection, and waited a couple of moments to talk to Tina, Owner Lady’s daughter.

“Hey, you’ve got two spares here, I was gonna have them help turn people off, we’re heading semis over to Kansas, turning cars or making them pull off on the shoulder. Semis can pull off and wait too, if they want to. Here’s a spare radio, tell south end when you want him to start sending you trucks.”

“Got it, go.”

I went.

On the way down to the hole my stomach grumbled a complaint, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten yet.

I’ll grab my lunch and see if I can’t grab a few bites in between shuffling irate cars.

I popped over the hill and parked in the same driveway I’d been using, nice and out of the way, and got everyone out of my car while I popped my trunk again and grabbed a plastic bag and a couple of bottles of water out of my cooler. I slid the bottles into the big inside pockets of my vest, and looped the handles of the bag over my wrist. The folks I’d hauled in had already headed for the nearest ambulance, and an EMT was pointing them in the right directions. I looked towards the north side of the hole and found Boss Lady’s truck.

I picked my way through the wreckage, climbing over a couple of hoods and doing my best to stay out of the way of everyone, and to block out everything but the path I was taking, and finally made it to the other side to find Boss Lady bent down talking through the window of a car. I stood back to let her finish with them while I fished in the bag and pulled out my sandwitch. I scarfed a few bites before she was done, and asked her around a mouthful what the plan was.

“We’re just getting them backed up to the hog farm and heading them out the north end, at this point. The troopers gave me some contact cards for the ones that got bumped. If they don’t need medical attention, give them a card,” and she handed me a stack which I slipped into a vest pocket, “and send them on.”

“Got it, I’ll go up and start backing them up.”

I rewrapped my sandwich and started jogging up the hill, pausing at each car and asking if anyone needed medical attention, explaining briefly that they would be backing up and turning around, to watch while they were backing for my hand signals when they got to the side road that we were using to turn them around, and then moving on to the next.

When I reached a small tan four door car, I noted that they’d been rear-ended, the trunk was crunched, and there were two kids in the back seat, crying. Mom and dad looked like they might be in a little shock.

“Hey, guys, where does it hurt?” I didn’t want to have them move much if they had injuries, and I kept my voice calm and soft.

“What? No, we’re not hurt, just…” and dad gestured towards the wreckage, swarming with red and blue lights and the figures of the emergency services people. Hell, they had a good clear view from here.

“Ok, how about the kids?”

Mom seemed to wake from her daze, and tried to comfort her children, from her manner I guessed that she’d been trying and knew it wasn’t going to work.

“They’re a little shook up, but mostly they’re hungry and don’t understand what’s going on. We didn’t stop for lunch in the last town, we were going to hit a restaurant in the next one…” and he trailed off. “My god, it could have been us.”

“Sir, here’s a contact card for the state patrol, you’re going to have to call them and give them your information. They may want a statement from you.” I handed him the card, and looked over to mom, digging in the plastic bag that was still hanging from my wrist.

“Ma’am, I have some food here…”

She eyed me speculatively for a moment.

“It’s my lunch, Ma’am, I’ll take a bite if you like.”

Those kids were hungry, and upset, and I couldn’t leave them starving.

“No, its ok, thank you so much, you’re a good person.” Mom held her hand out for the sandwich, and I tore the portion that I’d already bitten out of off and handed it and a bag of chips to her. I stuffed the portion I’d torn off into my mouth, explained what I needed them to do, and headed off to the next car.

My stomach rumbled a complaint.

Too bad. They were kids, and they were hungry, and god only knows when they’ll get to somewhere they can get food, I told my stomach sternly.

I was almost to the end of the line, and went through the rest of the cars quickly. I began backing the last one up, walking beside the driver’s window until we got to the side road. I moved the barricades that we had set up to shut this road off to traffic, and guided them back with hand signals, before waving them out to the north and turning to the next vehicle, which I’d stopped with a hand signal, palm towards them.

Each car was a test in creative hand signals, since none of them knew the ones common to road construction and farm workers everywhere, and I stayed focused on my task until suddenly there weren’t any more cars to back out, and Boss Lady was walking up to me. I shook out arms suddenly numb and shaking, and glanced at my watch, wondering how long I’d been waving them around.

Holy crap, over an hour.

“Good work, Farmgirl. Now comes the fun part.” And she looked towards the bottom of the hole, where people were still swarming around the wreckage, although now there was only one ambulance.

“They get all the bad ones out?” I asked Boss Lady, and she shook her head.

“They’re coming back.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Gerald?”

“Haven’t had time to ask, and I haven’t seen Ron either,” she shrugged. “There were some of the pave crew involved, it’s not pretty.”

“I bet not.”

We started walking down the hill, and I knew that my shoulders were slumped and my steps slow.

When we neared the bottom of the slope, I made sure that my back was straight at my stride sure. I’d been using authority I didn’t really have ever since this all started, and I knew that a confident posture would make people listen much faster than any actual authority.

Boss Lady and I headed for the nearest gray-blue uniform, and got told that someone needed to handle the paving supervisor. I looked around and saw him waving his arms and shouting at another officer. I told Boss Lady I’d handle it, and she nodded gratefully as I walked towards the argument.

“And what in the hell am I supposed to do with this?!?” The supervisor waved a hardhat in the face of the officer, and I saw with a jolt that it was Steve’s, his name written in black marker across the back of it, and that it had reddish brown smears on it. I choked back sudden tears and stepped close enough for them to notice me. When I did that, I came to where I could see the mess in front of the paver, and had to look away quickly.

“My best advice is that you give it to the EMT’s when they’re ready for him,” and I pointed to the mess in front of the paver, “so they can use it to gather up what’s left of his head.” My voice shook a little but my gaze didn’t waver from the supervisor’s face. I watched it slowly turn green.

“You’re sick.”

“And you’re being an asshole and interfering with people who might be able to help the people who can be helped. You stop, and I will.”

“I have to get back into production…”

“Because you’re worried about your early completion bonus, sure, whatever. Problem is, it’s not gonna fuckin happen until all of this is taken care of. So, the more cooperative you are, the faster it all gets done and you can get back to being an uncaring, money driven asshole. Either help, or get the hell out of the way, or I swear to whatever diety you care to name I will move you out of the way!” My temper had snapped and I was ready to knock him out and stash him in the ditch somewhere. My face must have been doing something concerning, because the officer half raised his hand towards me in a calming gesture.

The supervisor eyed me for a moment more, and stalked off to his pickup where it was still parked in the ditch.

“You ok?” The officer looked concerned and I realized that I was shaking with anger.

“Fine, just pissed. Was that guy,” I nodded my head towards the green pickup, still sitting with its tires sunken in slowly hardening concrete, “the hit and run from up north?”

“Yeah, and he tried to run.” The officer’s voice dropped to a growl and I noticed the footprints in the slab near the pickup.

“I hope you took him down in a patch of cactus.” I said.

“Unfortunately there wasn’t any near enough.” He smiled slightly.

“What do you need me to do?” I asked.

“Got any training?” He sounded hopeful as he turned to walk back towards the other cars.

“No, but I can take directions.”

He shook his head. “No one free to give you directions. See if you can keep the ones we haven’t gotten to calm. Some of ‘em are just bruised up, and they’re last on the list.”

“Got it. Anyone ever make it down in the ravine to check the car that went over?” I dreaded the answer.

“Yeah, they didn’t make it.”

“Hell.”

I spent most of the rest of the afternoon kneeling in open car doors, talking to people, drawing them out and trying to get their minds away from the carnage around them. There were pools of blood, and a few bodies, scattered around everywhere. Wreckers sat at the top of the hills on each side of the hole, waiting for an officer to tell them which car to get. They were just dragging them up into the ditches for the moment, getting them out of the way. They’d start hauling them out later.

I finally looked up to notice that the car I was at was the last one, and the ambulance was pulling in to take care of them, and probably haul them to the hospital. The guy had a broken arm, and his girlfriend was nearly hysterical, in spite of my attempts to calm her down. I nodded to the driver of the ambulance, and stepped away from the car, looking around for what to do next.

Looks like state patrol is finishing up their measurements, most of them are packing up. I wonder if I can ask the ambulance guys about our boys? Worth a shot.

I walked up to the one who had been driving, where he was handing things to the other guy. An air splint, maybe.

“You got any info on the construction guys that got pulled out?”

“Which ones?” His eyes looked tired and bleak.

“Any of them.” My voice was hoarse, and I realized that it must be after shift change, the sun was sitting on the horizon.

“The old guy from the silver bug should be ok, he had a broken leg and a couple of cracked ribs, possibly a mild concussion. Three or four of the guys without the pants” he nodded at my own yellow pants “had pretty severe injuries, lots of them got cuts and bruises from shit flying off the cars. A couple didn’t make it long enough for us to get here.”

My eyes burned, and I wanted to ask about Steve, but I knew that this guy wouldn’t know him.

“What about the other guy with the pants?”

“I don’t know.”

“Thanks anyway.” I started to turn away, and he saw a bandanna sticking out of my back pocket.

“Hey, are you the girl that gave the hi-po the bandannas and shirts?”

“Yeah.” I was tired, sore, and feeling pretty dejected.

“That cop was pissed that you took off.”

“Yeah, I know.” Anger started to stir, and then just died. I was too tired to hold on to it.

“Those bandannas? They saved a couple of lives. Couple people would have bled out if someone hadn’t rigged tourniquets out of them.”

I blinked at him.

“You did good.”

“Oh. Good.”

I walked away, in a slight daze. As I passed the paver, I looked down and caught a glint of metal on the slab. A ring. I picked it up and looked at it, hoping I could identify it somehow and get it back to its owner… or their family.

It was a plain band of yellow gold, tarnished with blood. I wiped most of it off with the tail of my shirt, and saw that there was an inscription on the inside.

Steve and Tracy, Forever.

I lost it, sat down right there and bawled into my hands. I rocked back and forth and cried over the stupidity of it all.

I felt arms wrap around me and heard Boss Lady’s voice in my ear.

“Its ok, kiddo, I know, I know.”

I cried for a few more minutes, and then got a grip on myself. I looked at Boss Lady and held up the ring to show her, before I slipped it into my pocket.

“We resetting?” I asked. My voice was thick, but clear enough.

“No, night crew is here, they’ll handle it. Lets go home, get some rest.”

“Ok.”

We started walking towards my car, and Boss Lady threw an arm around my shoulders.

“You did good today, kiddo. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“I love you, kiddo.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

Author's Note:

This is a fictional story, based on fact. I've used a site that I've actually worked, and all of the things that happened in the story, have happened on a construction site at an accident. Some of them didn't happen directly to me, but a lot of them did. Not all of the procedures used to handle traffic in this story conform to state and federal regulations, but I've seen them used in emergency situations. There are a lot of things that I didn't get into the story, simply because I was writing it from a first person point of view, and I wouldn't have known about them in that situation.

Thanks to Farmmom for helping me put it all together. And for being Farmmom, of course.

Short break from the story...

Couple of interesting things, tonight.

Number one, the complex manager's husband... not so bright about computer things. He's smart enough to set up a wireless network but not smart enough to secure it (theirs is the connection I've been sponging off of.) He caught me tonight and warned me not to "network in" to the internet connection. I thought he was telling me my days of free internet were over.

Nope, he was telling me that he didn't mind me borrowing the internet, but I shouldn't connect to his network to do it.

Wha?

Turns out I'd forgotten to change the fileshare settings on a couple of folders relating to the ringtones I've made for my phone and Farmmom's. He got into those folders, and decided that because he could do that, my computer was "unsecure."

Technically, he was right, but not for the reason he thought.

See... you can't get onto a wireless internet connection without connecting to the network its on. BUT... my stuff was "unsecure" because I had left the sharing properties wide open on it.

Ahh well his lack of computer savvy is my gain. When I got inside I changed the sharing protocols and my computer informed me that there was a user currently viewing those folders... so I shut him off. See what he makes of that.

He'll probably decide I'm a hacker, or something. Pfft, if I was, I'd crack into one of the two other wireless networks in the building. They've got better signal strength. But THEIR owners are smart enough to secure their networks.

And two... I got a borrowed DVD player today whilst I was in the hometown for my Nephew's birthday party.

One problem. My TV is dead.

It turns on, but it won't even change the quality of the static when you fiddle with the connections to the DVD player.

That sucks.

When things go wrong... Part II

Boss Lady was in trouble. Either the sky was falling and we were all about to die, or I was going to kick her butt for not answering the radio after something like that.

I ran for my car, slamming it into gear before the door closed. Pedal to the floor, I flipped a u-ie and headed North.

I kept calling on the radio, pausing to listen for any response. I had to lay the handheld down in my lap occasionally to honk the horn and blow my purloined air horn as I came up on workers.

As I got closer to where the traffic line should be, I slowed.

I may have to hit the ditch, and I don’t want to do that going too fast… there’s still at least a two inch drop on this side, and the ditch is steep here. Don’t want to roll my car.

My best bet is they ran into trouble going by the paver, maybe had to stop the cop and let traffic by. That’s down in the hole, would explain the lack of a response on the radio.

I reached the hill before the hole, and no sign of traffic yet. Now I’m really worried. They should have been passing me by now. The fact that they weren’t, meant that the traffic line was stopped. We don’t ever stop a traffic line, unless something even more dangerous than trying to take two miles worth of traffic from forty five to a stop is up ahead.

I popped over the hill going slow enough to slam on my brakes and keep from hitting anyone that might be in the road, which means not very fast at all. Twenty, tops.

Still fast enough for anyone who might intentionally jump in front of my car, true, but slow enough I’ve got reaction time if I need it.

“Shit.”

I backed up to the top of the hill, snagged the handheld and started barking orders.

“South end, I know you have a cell phone, call 911, tell them we’ve got a major accident here, at least six cars, one state patrol on scene already, we’re gonna need ambulances.”

“What’s going on? Why do I have to call?”

“Stop asking stupid questions and DIAL 911!”

“Ok, ok, jeez!”

Back down the hill, slowly. This side of things was relatively clear, they didn’t get this far. Below me though, it was a mess.

There’s a ravine with a bridge over it at the bottom of the hole, the paver was coming up on the bridge, maybe two loads of concrete from framing the end and walking the paver up past the bridge.

Don't think they're gonna get that done today...

Somehow there was a pileup right by the paver. I could see the pilot car knocked into the dead lane in front of the big concrete laying machine, driver’s side crunched against one of the dump trucks that hauled the concrete.

Shit. Gerald's in there.

The pilot car driver that day was a nice old man, too old to stand out there all day, but good with traffic. He always gave me hugs, when I gave him a break.

Four more cars mashed together, pointing different directions. Must have rebounded off the guardrail on the bridge.

A string of crunched cars went up the hill, now that I had a second to look, a couple of them shoved half-off the twelve inch drop off the slab.

There was enough battered metal to make a junkyard dog move in and set up house down there, and it was obvious that there were going to be people hurt. A couple of people were out of their vehicles and moving around, already.

From there, it was hard to tell just what else was involved, except for one vehicle. A dark green pickup sat squarely in the middle of the freshly poured concrete, tires sunken. As I got closer I could see that it had several large dents towards the front.

I hopped out of my car, and spotted my supervisor off to one side yelling at the paving supervisor. I headed over there at a dead run. Not only does she need to know that the 911 call is in progress, but she needs to call the office, and she needs to get away from the paving supervisor before she says something dumb like…

“You asshole, there are people injured and you want to get a loader down here to pull the truck that caused all of this crap out???”

Too late. Ok, so I agreed with her, he was an asshole.

“Boss Lady!”

“And another thing you sorry..”

“BOSS LADY!”

“WHAT?!?” She turned on me and yelled in my face.

“South end is calling 911 with all the information I had. I’ll get things organized here while you call the office. I got the south end covered on lead-ins, but we’re going to need more ambulances than they have south of us. Did Owner Lady ever finalize that emergency detour plan? I think we’re going to need it.” I chose my words carefully. She had to play the politics game with this guy, and while he’d accept her cussing him out, under the circumstances, if I undermined her in front of him, it’d make her job a lot harder.

The fact that it yanked her back from the emotional brink and got her brain working again is just a bonus.

I couldn’t blame her, if I’d seen it happen I’d have been a wreck too. So would most of our male supervisors.

She took a breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, Boss Lady had a grip on herself.

“Good. Explain to him why he can’t pull that pickup out.” She motioned towards the paving supervisor.

“Oh sure, leave me with the fun part.” This got a small smile.

She jogged back to her truck, maneuvered her way around, and headed back up the hill. She really needed to go north, to lead in any emergency personnel from that end, but she couldn’t get there from here. She’d have to detour around on county roads, which would mean some time lost. She’d spend it making phone calls, since she had a booster in the truck. 911 again with better information, the office to inform the big boss and get her down here, the state engineer for the site, and the Department of Transportation office to see if we could shut down the highway between the two towns. The county commissioners office to get permission to detour traffic around, at least to clear people out, and in case they wouldn’t close the road. Flaggers, we’d need all the extra hands we could get. The supervisor for the main contractor on site.

I ignored the paving supervisor. He was being an asshole, but the reality of the situation would sink in soon enough, and he’d figure out exactly why he couldn’t move that truck. His freshly poured concrete had just, I suspected, become a crime scene.

I started walking down towards the wreckage, even though that was the last place I wanted to go. I had to inform the officer that he had help on the way, and then I had to get back south and organize my flaggers. I had a thought and reversed direction, popping the trunk on my car, grabbing my first aid kit and a couple of Wal-Mart sacks. I’d just bought a couple of t-shirts and several 3-packs of bandannas the day before, and hadn’t gotten them out of the trunk yet. Not much, but maybe it would help.

I like to keep bandannas on hand, they’re handy when it’s hot, soak one down in your cooler and wrap it around your neck, cool ya right off. Of course, there are other things that they’re useful for, too. Like forming a pressure bandage.

The paving supervisor was following me, and as I once again headed for the twisted pile of metal that used to be several cars, he grabbed my arm.

“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT THAT PICKUP?!?”

I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at him, giving him the kind of glare I usually reserve for jumpy truckers or equipment operators that refused to listen to me.

“Look around. There’s been a major fucking wreck. And if I’m not mistaken, you really should be checking on your boys instead of harassing me. You know, doing your JOB?? If you have a first aid kit somewhere around here, get it, and help out. Either way, you need to get your fucking hands off me and stop being an asshole. Unless you want me to put it in my report that workers were endangered because you were more worried about production than people's lives.”

I’m not the supervisor. I don’t have to play politics with this man.

I jerked my arm out of his grip and started walking, not waiting to see the moment when the full impact of this thing hit him. It wasn’t going to be pretty.

When I got closer to the wreckage, I looked for the trooper. He was bent over, three cars in, his hands busy with something I couldn’t see, the woman in the seat nearest him was sobbing and shaking her head. Shit.

I shoved reaction back, time to get freaked out later. Right then I had a job to do.

I reached the trooper, taking note of things as I went through. Blue four door, man, woman, two kids in the back seat. Man was bleeding down his face, looked like he probably broke his nose. Woman, holding her stomach and trying to curl around it, the seatbelt keeping her from it. Kids, strapped in car seats, crying, scared, but no obvious wounds. Red two door, high school age kid, unconscious or dead, the front end of his car all but gone. The engine must have been in his lap. Thoughts flickered through my head, none of them sticking around for very long. There was just too much to take in.

“Sir.”

The officer looked over his shoulder at me, and I saw he was trying to jerk open the door. I didn’t think he’d have much luck. The side of the car might as well have been one solid piece of metal, the body was so deformed there was no way that door was opening.

“I have one small first aid kit, two t-shirts, a bunch of bandannas, and a plastic sack.” I offered the items to him.

“I need a pair of hands, go check everyone…”

“No, sir.”

“What? I’m telling you I need…”

“Sir, I am not trained in CPR, first aid, or removing damaged car parts. I am trained in handling traffic control. I have to get out of this hole and get back in contact with the rest of my flaggers. I have to go to the south end and lead the ambulances here in a safe manner.”

“The ambulances will find their own way, now you go…”

“No, sir. They won’t. Because I’m not having more people hurt or killed today. There are still men working up there. The faster I get out of here the faster you get help down here.” I shook the first aid kit and bag at him, looking him steadily in the eye.

I felt like a shit leaving all those people, and Gerald, when I might have been able to help… but my responsibilities were elsewhere.

“You’re a cold bitch, you know that?”

“Yes sir. Take the stuff.”

I jogged back to my car, headed up to the top of the hill, listened for radio chatter once I got there. Nothing, they must have taken my warning seriously for once. Or, Boss Lady yelled at them again when she could hear them again.

“South end, what’s the story on those ambulances?”

“On their way. Folks are getting antsy down here.”

“Nothing I can do for them. I’m on my way to lead the ambulances in. Tell traffic there’s a big wreck, they can sit tight, or turn around and go back to town once the ambulances are through, but NO ONE moves until I get my ambulances, got it? Make sure everyone you can reach is in their vehicles.”

“Well I did wave them in but there are some back there a ways that aren’t looking at me.”

“Then RUN. Grab a trucker and have him start yelling on the CB.”

“But..”

“No buts, welcome to the fun part of the job. As long as you’ve explained things to the first person in line they’ll stay still. If they don’t I’m on my way out and I’ll deal with them down here.”

“No, my first guy is pretty reasonable, it’s a few cars back that are getting pissy.”

“Ask them if they want to be responsible for someone’s loved one dying. That usually shuts them up. Coming up on you now.”

I took the lane change in front of the line of traffic and kept heading south for a mile or so, watching for the telltale flashing red and blues, and laying on the horn to get people out of the way. We’d been holding long enough that we had two and a half, maybe three miles worth of traffic stacked up.

I didn’t dare drive any further, I couldn’t remember what time it had been when I came on the accident, the ambulances could be there any second. I found a small gap in traffic and whipped into it, backing back out into the south bound lane and watching my rear view.

“Miss? What’s taking so long?”

“Sir, I need you to get back into your vehicle and stay there. We’ve got emergency services coming. Once they’re by you can turn around and go back to town or you can stay here and wait, but we’ve had an accident in the middle of the site, and I have no idea how long it will be. Do me a favor and tell anyone between you and your car that they need to stay in their vehicles and be patient.”

“Ok, miss, but… is there anything I can do to help?”

“Other than stay in your car, unless you have medical training, no sir. If you have a CB you can start telling people what’s going on. Now, get out of the way please.”

I was trying to be polite, the guy was concerned, not pissed off, not causing any problems on purpose, but I had problems of my own and I needed him out of the way.

I’d kept my eyes on my rear view and spotted the first glimmer that might be red and blues. I gripped the steering wheel with both hands while my pulse shot up, checked ahead of me to make sure it was clear, and waited until I could clearly see the ambulances before I accelerated smoothly and carefully. I set my own pace and waited 'till the ambulances matched me, watching in the mirror, and took them up to forty miles an hour. Everyone was in their vehicles, and the south end flagger was walking back towards the front of the line. I honked the horn and he turned to look before he dodged in between two trucks.

Ambulances don’t do high speed lane changes well. At least not in the distances that we had to work with. I kept them at forty till we got around traffic and into the live lane. I had enough room to get them around and into the zone without rocking them too badly at that speed. Then I gradually increased my speed. We had four miles to go before we got to the accident, and every second counts in those situations.

The ambulance right behind me got the hint after I’d laid on the horn going by one group of workers, and flipped on the siren. Good, now everyone will hear us coming.

I started reducing speed about a half a mile before the hole, pulling them back from sixty five down to forty, thirty. The driver behind me was on the ball, he never got too close.

I peeled off once I got them over the top of the hill, I’d need my car, and it wouldn’t be very smart to let it get boxed in by the ambulances. I followed them down.

“Yo!” I yelled as they bailed out, grabbing bags and equipment. “What else have we got coming?”

“The county boys, rural fire, another ambulance is coming from Walsh but it will be a while before they get here.”

“Got it, I’ll get ‘em here.”

I backed back to the driveway I’d parked in earlier, backing in. It was pure chance that I looked to my right when I did, and saw the car in the ravine, laid over on it’s top.

Shit.

I swallowed and headed back for the south end. Either they’d noticed it, or they hadn’t, but I had a lot of people that were going to be running hot coming, and I had to get them through safely.

“Farmgirl, you copy?” Boss Lady’s voice was steady again over the radio.

“10-4”

“You got those ambulances yet?”

“Two ambulances on site, I’m headed south to get the rest of the circus. One more ambulance reported as on the way from Walsh, Rural Fire, and everyone else in the county who has a badge or enough clout not to get kicked out, apparently.”

“Good, we’ve got ambulances coming from up north, too. We should have Owner Lady here soon, and I’ll leave her the north end, and be down in the hole.”

“10-4 Boss Lady. You want me to organize this end? Are we detouring or just turning them around if we can?”

“Yes, and for the moment we’re turning them around if we can. If the semis insist, send them up to 116 and back over into Kansas, once we get all the emergency people in here. Make sure the flaggers know what’s going on there.”

“10-4 Boss Lady, I got it covered.”

I was almost to the south end, I pulled up to the flagger, verified that he’d heard the conversation, and headed on back to the same spot to wait again.

The guy from earlier was out of his car again, wandering among the traffic line and talking to people. When he saw me he ran up to my window.

“I know, you need me in my vehicle, but there are four or five people with at least CPR training here, do you need them?”

Wow. I was surprised at the guys initiative, and impressed that he’d gone around asking everyone. There were bound to be some folks that were ready to start throwing punches at Traffic Control by now.

“I don’t know, I’ll ask the paramedics when I get back down there. For now, once I get gone, have them all pull their cars into the ditch and gather in one spot. If they don’t need them its no harm no foul, but if they do then they’re going to have to ride in with me.”

“Ok, I’ll go over on the other side of all these cars and start telling them.”

“Be careful, some bright boy might try coming up that shoulder. Here.”

I rummaged in the empty water and soda bottles in my backseat floorboard for a moment, and came up with my extra vest.

“If I don’t get that back from you before you leave, give it to the flagger up there, ok? At least you’re more visible now.”

“Sure, thanks.”

The guy sounded dubious, but I didn’t want him getting smacked while he was trying to help out.

Just then I saw the red and blues coming, and I went for another ride. The rural fire truck was followed by two of the Sheriff’s pickups, and a lone city police car.

“Farmgirl, you got a copy?”

“10-4” It was the south end flagger.

“I have Walsh Ambulance here, they want to know whether they’re going to have to wait on you or not.”

I thought for a second before I replied.

“Tell them to turn on every flashing light and loud noise they have, and watch out for our workers, and catch up with me. If they’re unsafe coming through, I’ll deal with them when its all over and done with.”

I knew the driver would be able to hear the radio, and the growl in my voice, and while it may not have intimidated him much, it did warn him that he needed to behave.

They did catch up by the time we got to the hole, and they did leave their siren on all the way in. Good boys.

I dove out of the way of the ambulances, and jumped out of my car to find a paramedic, or EMT.

Or whatever the hell training and title they’re giving those boys these days.

I caught one on his way to his ambulance for something, and matched stride with him.

“I’ve got four, five people on the south end that say they’ve got at least CPR training. You want ‘em?”

“Shit yes, we need all the hands we can get.”

“I’ll get ‘em here”

“We don’t need any more vehicles down here…” The guy looked at me severely.

“Let me handle traffic, bubbah, you just play with your doctor toys.” I grinned at him and he grinned back. I knew him, we'd gone to the same high school, even though he was a couple years ahead of me.

“Oh, there’s a car in the ravine, upside down. You can’t see it from the bridge, I don’t think.”

“No, you can’t. I saw it on the way in, but we can’t get to it yet.” His expression was bleak, now. He didn't think that there would be anyone left to save by the time they got down there, if there was anyone left alive in the first place.

“Gotcha.”

He jumped into the back of the ambulance and I took off for my car, trying to figure out how I was going to fit six or more people in a five seater car.

When things go wrong....

I rolled on site about 5:45, groggy and still trying to remember why in the hell I’d ever chosen this gawdawful hour of the morning to be out and about.

Oh yeah, work. Paycheck. Being the last line of defense between Joe Blow, driver without a clue, and.. well… himself, mostly.

The overabundance of that particular shade of orange used in road construction reminded me, and woke me up a little.

Strange that the color of orange found pretty much only in road construction seems to act as a soporific on so many people—it always wakes me up.

Maybe because I know that it’s more than just my ass on the line out there.

It was a typical day to start with, the supervisor had me running breaks so I was all over the place all day, fifteen minutes here, thirty there, ten in my car with the spiffy magnetic blinky light on top.

The bonus is, I get to shoot the bull with nearly the whole crew of workers while I’m at it. That’s always fun.

I was just finishing up the lunch breaks, doing the paver last, so that I could give Ron a longer break, since he had one of the crappier jobs that day.

The pave crew loves me. I don’t hesitate a second to reach out and grab one of them by the back of the shirt and jerk him out of the way if he’s not paying enough attention. I learned long ago not to even try yelling. With that much noise, there’s no use.

That’s also why there isn’t a radio on the paver… you hear about one word in four, and look really silly standing there with a walkie-talkie pressed to your ear, the other hand over your other ear, all the while trying to hold a five foot stick with a big metal sign on one end, and keep it from falling into the fresh concrete.

Besides, for a few more hours at least, the paver would be in the hole-of-no-reception, the Bermuda Triangle of radio signals. You could pick up a signal, and even understand the message, if the other person were close enough. But, at that distance, you can shout almost as effectively.

I also trade dirty jokes and innuendos with the pave crew. I’m one of the few females on site who will give them just as much shit as they give me.

“Hey, Twiggy, what’s happening?” Steve walked up to me while I was looking for traffic, trying to startle me. It was a routine game between us, we’d see who could surprise the other one.

It kept both of us on our toes. Sometimes he even managed to get me.

“Not much, Steve-o, how’s your day?”

“Fair-to-middlin. Say, you decided to take me up on my offer yet?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, somehow managing to come off both lecherous, and a clown.

“You decided to drop twenty pounds, ten years, and your wife yet?” I had to shout to be heard over the noise, and the crew nearest us started laughing and slapping Steve on the shoulder.

Me? They winked at me, tossing off their own joking offers to buy me a drink, a car, a hotel room. I just rolled my eyes and chuckled. Then I told them I was saving myself for marriage, and got three proposals on the spot. I told you it’s fun to B.S. with the guys! Good for the ego, too.

About then Ron came back from his break. I had let him sit in my car to eat his lunch, since there was a driveway handy to where the paver was and I was able to park without being in the nearby ravine or in the way of traffic. Plus, I didn’t want him driving my car.

“No, boys, she’s in love with me, she just doesn’t know it yet.” Ron made a motion as if to put his sweaty, faintly flabby arm around my shoulders, and I dodged.

“In your dreams. Get back to work before I kick your ass or file a sexual harassment claim.” My voice was flat and as cold as I could make it in 98 degree weather.

The crew had all gone quiet and watchful when Ron came back. They’d heard through the site grapevine that he didn’t seem to be taking “not only no, but HELL no” for an answer from me, and he put off his persistence to the same kind of joking that I did with the rest of the guys.

Difference is, they didn’t touch me, except rarely to shove gently at my shoulder when they forgot that I really don’t own my own pair of testicles. Ron had a serious problem with the concept of personal space.

“Back to work.”

I walked back over to my car, pausing to point one toe and hike up the leg of my hideous yellow class-3 high visibility pants, with two stripes of two inch retro reflective tape running around the ankles, at one of the passing supervisors. I tell you, throw in a vest that’s four sizes too big on me no matter what size the tag says, in the same color yellow, with two inch retro striping down the chest and around the abdomen, a bright orange hard hat, and it just doesn’t get much sexier. No, really. It’s downright traffic stopping.

“HEY! EVERYONE SHUT UP FOR A MINUTE!!” The radio that I’d left in my car screamed to life as I crested the hill, obviously one of the base units in either the pilot car or the supervisor’s truck, since it stepped all over anyone else who was talking.

I kept shut up. When a supervisor or a driver uses that tone, something is going wrong, and there’s no telling if its something stupid or if Murphy has come to remind us all of his Law.

“Just got a call,” Now that she wasn’t yelling, I recognized the voice of the supervisor. “We’ve got State Patrol coming hot, hit and run up north, vehicle description: Dark green pickup, unknown plate. Probably a largish dent somewhere near the front. Keep an eye out, hold all traffic North End till I get the Hi-Po led through. Pilot car, what’s your 20?” When Bad Things Happen, we always revert to absolutely proper radio protocol. Well, our company protocols anyway. Probably a mish mash of every protocol known to man, but they work for us. At least they keep easily misunderstood words out of it for the most part.

“Traffic is south bound, passing the plant now.”

“Shit. Farmgirl, you copy?”

I had a moment to think, don’t cuss on the radio… while the Boss Lady’s message came through to me.

“10-4”

“You anywhere near the paver recently?”

“Yep, and I know what you’re thinking.. I think there’s room to squeak ‘em by if I move a couple of drums, I’ll jump on that now.”

“If we’ve got a wide load that bridge will be a problem.”

“If we’ve got a load that wide we’ve got bigger problems than the bridge. And if it looks too tight, you can always pull the Hi-Po over into Bantry’s driveway.”

“You’re right. All right, you move those drums and then snag an air horn and start warning workers.. you won’t get to all of them, but some is better than none.”

“10-4 Boss Lady, I’m on it.”

“Pilot car, what’s your last?”

I half listened to the description of the last two vehicles in the line, while I headed back towards the hole.

I hauled ass back to where I was, and tweaked off the paving supervisor by squeezing his margin of safety to close to nil, I told him we had emergency services coming through, had to have the room, he grumbled, and asked if his boys could move them back out when the noisy bastards got through. Why not? Less work for me.

I snagged one of our refillable air horns, made sure it was charged, and started hauling ass southwards. Nothing up north but the concrete trucks, and they were usually good about looking, but we had four separate crews out on the slab, and they tended to trust in the supernatural abilities of Traffic Control to put a Vulcan Mind-Meld on every person in a traffic line just a wee bit more than I’m comfortable with.

Blow the horn out the window, shout “Hi-Po, running hot, watch your ass!” get a nod, repeat.

I got two crews warned before an orange truck, followed so closely by a silver Colorado State Patrol rig with all the bells and whistles going that they might have been tied together, popped up ahead of me. Thankfully, I was far enough south that I could dodge into the dead lane, stop, and let them by, without damaging the concrete.

My little blue Malibu rocked on its suspension as I did a close approximation of a high-speed lane change, mentally thanking my ex-cop parents for teaching me things like that instead of telling me to go play with my dolls, and pulled as far away from the live lane as I could get.

Guess those other two crews don’t really need my warning now.

“You want a tail, Boss Lady?” I spoke loudly and clearly into the radio, knowing that my supervisor would be high on an adrenaline rush, and with the added noise of the sirens and the wind in the rolled-down windows, it becomes very important to make sure that nothing is garbled.

“No, head south and check the drums, I think I nicked a couple going by the blade.” I had to listen closely to distinguish the words from the rush of wind and the double-whammy of the siren, over the radio and going by.

“10-4.”

My own adrenaline was up, and I drove a little too fast to check the drums, and set the ones she’d popped back on their bases. I retrieved the lightweight plastic barrels from their respective resting places in the ditch on the dead lane side, and set them back on the rubber bases with a hollow plastic popping noise.

I was just about to continue with the breaks when…

“SHIT!”

Don’t cuss on the radio, Boss Lady…

“Boss Lady, you got a copy?”

“What’s going on?”

“What the hell was that all about?”

The radio chattered to life, inconsequential questions, stupid people cluttering up my radio when I needed to talk. I was the only one mobile and free on site, I needed to know what was going on and I couldn't find out while they were yamering.

I caught a free second and jumped on it, “SHUT UP ALL OF YOU! Stay off the radio unless you have something relating to traffic to say. Boss Lady, you need me?”

Silence.

My adrenaline started pumping again, and I keyed up again, holding the mic button for a second before speaking.

“Boss Lady, do you need me?”

Silence again.

Double Shit.

Work in Progress

So, I'm sitting here working on the story of the road construction accident, which I'm making pretty hairy, and I take a pause to go back and read what I've got, check my tenses, etc. I have a bad habit of changing tenses from past to present when I'm writing something "exciting" so to speak, so I have to go back and check every once in a while.

Then I look at my page count. Times New Roman 12pt font, single spaced. Eleven pages so far.

And I'm not even half done, yet.

I may give this one to you guys in chapters, rather than dump the whole thing on you at once.

I'll see if I can't find a place to put a chapter break and do final revisions and post the first bit tonight.

Ahh.

Getting settled in, getting things organized, re-arranged, and stirred to my satisfaction.

One thing to mar the joy of the new apartment... I need a vacuum. Its something that I didn't pick up before hand, and I was trying to avoid it until I got a job, but I didn't count on having this much styrofoam about.

I got new lamps, and a new kitchen island thing to put the microwave on. The result? My living room carpet is covered in tiny pieces of styrofoam. Looks really bad. So, either I'll get motivated and stay frugal and pick them all up by hand or I'll get lazy and go buy a vacuum. Probably the first one, I can ask for a vacuum for my birthday, its coming up soon anyway.

Other than that, things are going good.

Oh, and Farmdad insisted that I post a correction.

He says I'm not stealing internet, I'm borrowing bandwidth.

I think I'm stealing internet, but hey....