I enjoy baking. This is not news. An important tool (the most important tool, one might argue) is the oven. It's easy to take the oven for granted, with it being one of the main fixtures of any kitchen.
At least until it stops working.
Last week, while I had a batch of cookies in the oven, I heard an odd click. When the timer beeped, the cookies were still raw. I tried resetting the oven, but it didn't do anything. I checked the burners, but none of them worked either. I thought it might be a tripped circuit breaker, except that the clock on the oven still worked. I was left with a batch of pumpkin cookie dough and no way to finish them.
I called and left a message for maintenance, explaining that I needed the oven and stove in order to feed myself. This was Wednesday of last week and it still wasn't working by Friday, with no word on when it would be repaired. I called on Friday and talked to an attendant at the front office, who wrote down my information. I spent the weekend without a working stove and oven.
I stopped by my apartment during my lunch break on Monday and no repairs had been made. I called yet again, and had to leave another message. I was certainly feeling neglected and expressed my frustration to Leah. Without my asking her, she spoke to the office employee and, what do you know, my name was next on the list for repairs. When I got home from work yesterday, the oven thankfully worked again.
I don't know if all of my calls made a difference or if my name was taken down the first time and no one bothered to tell me. Either way, I'm glad that I can once again feed myself without having to rely on Hot Pockets and microwavable burritos.
Tuesday, September 27, 2016
Tuesday, September 20, 2016
Beck: Live in Concert
Last night, I saw my favorite musician, Beck, perform live in Charlottesville, Virginia. And it was amazing.
Leah came with me, despite not being familiar with Beck's music beyond his biggest hit, "Loser." I took advantage of the long drive down to the venue to introduce her to some of his discography -- it probably would have been better if I had played just some of my favorites, but I just set my iPod to shuffle through my Beck collection, though I pointed out when a particular song really spoke to me.
Once we got down to Charlottesville, we checked into our hotel so we could just go straight to sleep after the show. When it was time to head over to the amphitheater, I suddenly felt the bottom of my stomach drop away: I had forgotten the tickets. I immediately started having a panic attack and even started crying, but Leah came to my rescue and told me to look up the confirmation email so I could show my proof of purchase to get replacement tickets. I searched for said email, but nothing came up. I called Ticketmaster and worked my way through the phone tree (and multiple disconnections) while Leah called the concert venue, Sprint Pavilion. I never got through to anyone, but Leah did and found out that as long as I have my ID and the credit card I used, the staff at the venue would be able issue me new tickets. I felt a lot better, but I didn't completely calm down until I had the replacement tickets in hand.
(I know that I spent years in a relationship with an emotionally abusive partner, so my perspective is warped, but I was truly touched when Leah wouldn't let me give up after my blunder. She helped me find a solution and didn't abandon me when my anxiety got the best of me. I cannot thank her enough for what she did for me.)
Despite getting in line right when the doors opened, we were able to quickly make it to the front of the audience. The way the amphitheater is set up, there were no seats at the front, just an open area in which to stand and we were third or fourth from the very front. For the most part people were well behaved and didn't try force their way to the front (the exception being two rather short teenaged girls near the beginning and a drunk guy near the end of the show).
The opening act was a band from Sweden called Peter Bjorn and John, which was confusing for me because they left out a much needed comma from their band's name (the three founding members of the band are Peter, Bjorn, and John, for which the band is named). They were a great band to get the crowd in the mood. The lead guitarist and singer was very energetic and jumped around a lot while he played: there was even one song where he only sang and he walked through the audience, with lots of people giving him high fives (the high fives didn't start until after he passed us, so I never got one). I enjoyed the music they played and was especially surprised when I heard a song I recognized, "Young Folks." They only played for about thirty minutes, but I'm glad I got to see them.
It took about thirty-five minutes for the road crew to clear Peter Bjorn and John's set from the stage and for Beck's band to start playing. The man of the hour came out after the music had already started, allowing the crowd to really get amped up. The band started with the classic song, "Devi's Haircut," but with extra solos. And no Beck performance would be complete without a rendition of the song that made him famous, "Loser," which was the second song of the night. His crowd work was great, pointing the mic to the audience for every chorus. I looked over at Leah and even though she only kind of knew the song, she was really into it.
I liked that Beck sang some songs and picked up his guitar and played while singing for others. Even though he let his backup band carry the majority of the songs, make no mistake: this guy can play.
After one particularly moving song, "Paper Tiger," Beck asked a girl in the audience if she was okay, because she had been moved to tears. She apparently said that she was because he kept going, but you could tell that he was touched that she had felt something so powerful through his music.
And like every good show, there was even a costume change:
Leah came with me, despite not being familiar with Beck's music beyond his biggest hit, "Loser." I took advantage of the long drive down to the venue to introduce her to some of his discography -- it probably would have been better if I had played just some of my favorites, but I just set my iPod to shuffle through my Beck collection, though I pointed out when a particular song really spoke to me.
Once we got down to Charlottesville, we checked into our hotel so we could just go straight to sleep after the show. When it was time to head over to the amphitheater, I suddenly felt the bottom of my stomach drop away: I had forgotten the tickets. I immediately started having a panic attack and even started crying, but Leah came to my rescue and told me to look up the confirmation email so I could show my proof of purchase to get replacement tickets. I searched for said email, but nothing came up. I called Ticketmaster and worked my way through the phone tree (and multiple disconnections) while Leah called the concert venue, Sprint Pavilion. I never got through to anyone, but Leah did and found out that as long as I have my ID and the credit card I used, the staff at the venue would be able issue me new tickets. I felt a lot better, but I didn't completely calm down until I had the replacement tickets in hand.
A picture to remember where we parked becomes a fun memory with the addition of a cute pose.
(I know that I spent years in a relationship with an emotionally abusive partner, so my perspective is warped, but I was truly touched when Leah wouldn't let me give up after my blunder. She helped me find a solution and didn't abandon me when my anxiety got the best of me. I cannot thank her enough for what she did for me.)
Despite getting in line right when the doors opened, we were able to quickly make it to the front of the audience. The way the amphitheater is set up, there were no seats at the front, just an open area in which to stand and we were third or fourth from the very front. For the most part people were well behaved and didn't try force their way to the front (the exception being two rather short teenaged girls near the beginning and a drunk guy near the end of the show).
A selfie while the opening act tuned their instruments.
The opening act was a band from Sweden called Peter Bjorn and John, which was confusing for me because they left out a much needed comma from their band's name (the three founding members of the band are Peter, Bjorn, and John, for which the band is named). They were a great band to get the crowd in the mood. The lead guitarist and singer was very energetic and jumped around a lot while he played: there was even one song where he only sang and he walked through the audience, with lots of people giving him high fives (the high fives didn't start until after he passed us, so I never got one). I enjoyed the music they played and was especially surprised when I heard a song I recognized, "Young Folks." They only played for about thirty minutes, but I'm glad I got to see them.
My view for the evening.
It took about thirty-five minutes for the road crew to clear Peter Bjorn and John's set from the stage and for Beck's band to start playing. The man of the hour came out after the music had already started, allowing the crowd to really get amped up. The band started with the classic song, "Devi's Haircut," but with extra solos. And no Beck performance would be complete without a rendition of the song that made him famous, "Loser," which was the second song of the night. His crowd work was great, pointing the mic to the audience for every chorus. I looked over at Leah and even though she only kind of knew the song, she was really into it.
I liked that Beck sang some songs and picked up his guitar and played while singing for others. Even though he let his backup band carry the majority of the songs, make no mistake: this guy can play.
After one particularly moving song, "Paper Tiger," Beck asked a girl in the audience if she was okay, because she had been moved to tears. She apparently said that she was because he kept going, but you could tell that he was touched that she had felt something so powerful through his music.
And like every good show, there was even a costume change:
Maybe not a particularly exciting costume change, but I appreciated the effort.
About halfway into the show, Beck introduced the members of his band, though I didn't catch any of their names. Still, here's what they look like:
During the bassist's introduction, he started playing Micheal Jackson's "Billie Jean" and the rest of the band joined in. Beck pointed the mic at the audience for the chorus and later commented that we were "surprisingly in key."
As the band worked their way through many of Beck's bigger hits, I kept track in my head if there were any major ones that had been left out. Just as I was worried that one of his biggest hits (and one of my personal favorites) would be excluded, "E-pro" was played as the closing song. The band quickly vacated the stage, but the audience stayed and cheered for a solid minute, so Beck (unaccompanied) came back out for an encore! He sang and played his harmonica, which resulted in even more cheers. After this final song, the roadies came and started breaking down the set, a clear sign that the show was over.
There were a lot of ups and downs leading up to this show, but in the end I had a great time. I loved the music, I loved the company, and I'm glad I took a ridiculous number of pictures. I'm exhausted, but it was worth it for the experience.
Friday, September 16, 2016
Lysine to the Rescue
At some point during my childhood, I contracted the herpes simplex 1 virus, or HSV-1. This virus causes cold sores and fever blisters and once a person contracts it, they have it for life. These mouth sores are little more than annoying, so the fact that it's incurable is really a non-issue. Plus, I usually only get fever blisters once every few years, so I haven't really had to worry about it.
Or I didn't, until I had a girlfriend who doesn't have the virus. And guess what showed up this week? Two cold sores right next to each other.
I know that increased stress can lower the immune system and that's usually when HSV-1 strikes. I've been facing a lot of deadlines at work lately, so it makes sense that I've been more stressed than usual. Still, though, I didn't like the idea of growing a festering wound on my lip, so I looked up remedies. Holding ice to the sores throughout the day is supposed to help, but that didn't do much for me. Applying tea tree oil thrice daily is also supposed to speed up the healing process, but I didn't notice a difference. However, lysine (or rather, a topical ointment with lysine as the active ingredient) worked like a charm.
I first noticed the cold sores coming in on Monday morning and, after trying ice and tea tree oil with no results, I started using the lysine ointment on Wednesday afternoon. I've been applying the ointment frequently throughout the day (about once an hour) and as of this writing, one sore is gone and very little of the other remains.
If you have HSV-1 and suffer from either cold sores or fever blisters, try lysine. It worked wonders for me.
Or I didn't, until I had a girlfriend who doesn't have the virus. And guess what showed up this week? Two cold sores right next to each other.
I know that increased stress can lower the immune system and that's usually when HSV-1 strikes. I've been facing a lot of deadlines at work lately, so it makes sense that I've been more stressed than usual. Still, though, I didn't like the idea of growing a festering wound on my lip, so I looked up remedies. Holding ice to the sores throughout the day is supposed to help, but that didn't do much for me. Applying tea tree oil thrice daily is also supposed to speed up the healing process, but I didn't notice a difference. However, lysine (or rather, a topical ointment with lysine as the active ingredient) worked like a charm.
I first noticed the cold sores coming in on Monday morning and, after trying ice and tea tree oil with no results, I started using the lysine ointment on Wednesday afternoon. I've been applying the ointment frequently throughout the day (about once an hour) and as of this writing, one sore is gone and very little of the other remains.
If you have HSV-1 and suffer from either cold sores or fever blisters, try lysine. It worked wonders for me.
Tuesday, September 13, 2016
A Real Marylander
Today, I have had a truly authentic Maryland experience: I went crab picking.
A few weeks ago, one of my coworkers, Chelsea, talked about how much she enjoyed crab picking when my boss, Magda, and I admitted that we had never partaken in one of Maryland's favorite activities. With our secret revealed, it was decided that we needed to go picking as a department. Chelsea found a place that offers crabs for $1.50 each on Tuesdays, so we made our plan to go.
The thing about picking crabs is that it takes a lot of work and there's a lot of waste. Most of the crab is inedible and the parts you can eat are hidden away under layers and layers of shell and organs. It's a good thing I had help because to my novice eyes, the gills (which can make you sick if you eat them) looked exactly the same as the meat. After a few crabs, however, I got the hang of it. I didn't count how many crabs I ate, but I think it was around six or seven. The five of us (the marketing department plus Alejandro from accounting) went through two and half dozen crabs and I could have kept eating if left to my own devices.
At the end of the meal and to everyone's surprise, Magda said that our outing counted as a team building experience and paid for the meal with her company card. I had already had a great time, so getting to enjoy the meal for free made it even better.
If you ever visit Maryland, I definitely recommend going crab picking, but be sure to take someone who can show you the ropes.
A few weeks ago, one of my coworkers, Chelsea, talked about how much she enjoyed crab picking when my boss, Magda, and I admitted that we had never partaken in one of Maryland's favorite activities. With our secret revealed, it was decided that we needed to go picking as a department. Chelsea found a place that offers crabs for $1.50 each on Tuesdays, so we made our plan to go.
The thing about picking crabs is that it takes a lot of work and there's a lot of waste. Most of the crab is inedible and the parts you can eat are hidden away under layers and layers of shell and organs. It's a good thing I had help because to my novice eyes, the gills (which can make you sick if you eat them) looked exactly the same as the meat. After a few crabs, however, I got the hang of it. I didn't count how many crabs I ate, but I think it was around six or seven. The five of us (the marketing department plus Alejandro from accounting) went through two and half dozen crabs and I could have kept eating if left to my own devices.
At the end of the meal and to everyone's surprise, Magda said that our outing counted as a team building experience and paid for the meal with her company card. I had already had a great time, so getting to enjoy the meal for free made it even better.
If you ever visit Maryland, I definitely recommend going crab picking, but be sure to take someone who can show you the ropes.
Wednesday, September 7, 2016
Laborious Weekend
My weekends of late have been full of activities, especially involving family. This weekend was no exception, though the family was not always my own.
On Saturday, I went with Leah to her mom’s place where I met Leah’s older sister Briana and her four kids. After a bite to eat (including cookies I brought), we all went to a boardwalk at Havre de Grace. It was a beautiful day and it was great being so close to the water. After our walk, we spent some time at the local park and the kids had a good time running around and playing (as did Leah’s mom, Debbie).
Since Leah worked in the evening at her part-time job, we parted ways and I headed home. After running a few errands, I went to Ian’s place to visit with him, Sherlin, and their kids. They had just gotten back from the Philadelphia Temple open house and the kids were getting their wiggles out. I worked in the kitchen with Sherlin, helping her bake a cake for the next day—we ended up having a problem with getting the first layer out, but I knew of a technique to help with that, so the next three layers came out without any problem. I hung around until much later than I planned, but it worked out because I got to see Margot, Bryan, and their kids as soon as they arrived (which was later than they planned).
The next day, after church, Leah came with me to the big birthday bash at Ian’s, which had as guests Margot’s clan and a friend of Sherlin who brought her children as well. It was actually Ian’s birthday, but we also celebrated Aeva’s and Phoebe’s birthdays. In fact, the cake that I helped with the day before was designed to be for all three of them: the flavor was Black Forest (for Ian) and the decorations were a combination of princess (for Phoebe) and superheroes (for Avea) themes. As crazy as that sounds, the craziest part was the fact that we crammed eight adults and a dozen kids into the kitchen for dinner, though it took three tables of various sizes. Sherlin made dinner, which was fantastic, as always.
My presents to both Aeva and Phoebe were action figures of girl superheroes: Batgirl for Aeva and Supergirl for Phoebe (which went well with Clara’s Wonder Woman figure that I bought her previously). For Ian, I gave him the unthinkable, at least for him: a book. I got him The Last Girlfriend on Earth: And Other Love Stories by Simon Rich. It’s a collection of farcical short stories that I think he’ll enjoy, if he ever actually reads it.
All of this fun over two short days wore me out and I ended up just staying for Labor Day. I’m happy that I have people in my life for whom I’m willing to exhaust myself.
On Saturday, I went with Leah to her mom’s place where I met Leah’s older sister Briana and her four kids. After a bite to eat (including cookies I brought), we all went to a boardwalk at Havre de Grace. It was a beautiful day and it was great being so close to the water. After our walk, we spent some time at the local park and the kids had a good time running around and playing (as did Leah’s mom, Debbie).
Since Leah worked in the evening at her part-time job, we parted ways and I headed home. After running a few errands, I went to Ian’s place to visit with him, Sherlin, and their kids. They had just gotten back from the Philadelphia Temple open house and the kids were getting their wiggles out. I worked in the kitchen with Sherlin, helping her bake a cake for the next day—we ended up having a problem with getting the first layer out, but I knew of a technique to help with that, so the next three layers came out without any problem. I hung around until much later than I planned, but it worked out because I got to see Margot, Bryan, and their kids as soon as they arrived (which was later than they planned).
The next day, after church, Leah came with me to the big birthday bash at Ian’s, which had as guests Margot’s clan and a friend of Sherlin who brought her children as well. It was actually Ian’s birthday, but we also celebrated Aeva’s and Phoebe’s birthdays. In fact, the cake that I helped with the day before was designed to be for all three of them: the flavor was Black Forest (for Ian) and the decorations were a combination of princess (for Phoebe) and superheroes (for Avea) themes. As crazy as that sounds, the craziest part was the fact that we crammed eight adults and a dozen kids into the kitchen for dinner, though it took three tables of various sizes. Sherlin made dinner, which was fantastic, as always.
My presents to both Aeva and Phoebe were action figures of girl superheroes: Batgirl for Aeva and Supergirl for Phoebe (which went well with Clara’s Wonder Woman figure that I bought her previously). For Ian, I gave him the unthinkable, at least for him: a book. I got him The Last Girlfriend on Earth: And Other Love Stories by Simon Rich. It’s a collection of farcical short stories that I think he’ll enjoy, if he ever actually reads it.
All of this fun over two short days wore me out and I ended up just staying for Labor Day. I’m happy that I have people in my life for whom I’m willing to exhaust myself.
Friday, September 2, 2016
Witness
After the baseball game a couple of weeks ago, I was driving home when I witnessed a car accident.
Traffic had been heavy near the city, but it opened up as I got farther away. On the freeway I was on, there are four lanes, which I will reference to as the lane closest to the center median as lane one and so on, with lane four being the far right lane. As I neared the Fort McHenry tunnel, I tried changing lanes, moving from lane three to lane two (with the ultimate destination being lane one), but I saw a car in lane one move over to lane two where I wanted to be. I was annoyed that he moved to where I wanted to be, so I slowed down and let him pass me.
Once he was in front of me, I kept an eye on him. He kept moving from lane to lane, never using his blinker. I thought he was either a dumb kid messing around or was distracted (likely on a cell phone). As I watched him, I noticed an electric sign with a flashing orange arrow in lane one, indicating that we needed to merge to the right—the Fort McHenry tunnel is made up of four tunnels with two lanes each (two tunnels going north and two going south) and occasionally half of the tunnels will be closed for maintenance, which was the case that night. Not only did the driver who kept moving around not see the electric arrow, he drifted too far to the left and hit the center median, sending sparks flying. Seconds after he hit the median, his car hit the electric arrow and he careened across the other lanes, finally stopping in lane four.
After witnessing the crash, I quickly decided to stop and see if the driver was okay. I pulled over just ahead of him, parking my car in lane four with my hazard lights flashing (in retrospect, I should have pulled all the way over into the shoulder, though my car was fine where it was). A truck driver also saw the crash and stopped his rig, blocking traffic immediately behind us. I walked up to the crashed car (a white sedan that I would guess was at least ten years old), which judging from the damage, would never be drivable again. The driver, a white male in his early twenties with a scruffy beard, was in shock but otherwise appeared to be fine. He rolled down the window so we could speak. While not word for word, our conversation went something like this:
ME: You okay, man?
HIM: Uh, I think so.
ME: Okay, good. Have you called 911, yet?
HIM: No.
ME: Okay, I’m going to call them.
HIM: Can I call my dad first?
ME: Let me call and get emergency services out here first, but after I call, yeah, you can call your dad.
I made the call and told the dispatcher where we were, which was easy since we had stopped right next to a mile marker. She told me that crews would be on the way soon. I then asked the kid (whose name was Billy) for his dad’s number so I could call. With the number dialed, I passed Billy the phone. His dad didn’t pick up, which makes sense since it was approaching midnight and my number would only show up as “unknown.” Billy left a voicemail and passed the phone back. With the calls made, we waited.
During all of this, the trucker walked over and checked on us and told me that he would wait for the road crew to arrive before taking off. I expressed my gratitude and he walked back to the cab of his truck. I asked Billy if he wanted to get out of the car and he decided that was a good idea. I could tell that he was still in shock, so I decided to talk to him to try to get his mind off of what happened. I asked him if had done any drinking that night (which I realize now was not a great opener), with the assurance that I wouldn’t say anything to the police. His response? “Obviously.” I told him that at least he was okay, so things would work out. He then started having a bit of a panic attack, saying that he wished that he had died in the crash. He even got in my face a bit too close and said that if I had a gun that I should shoot him. I think he was worried about getting a DUI on his record and didn’t want to face the consequences. I tried to calm him down, but nothing worked, so I ended up just walking away, leaving Billy to lean against the side of his wreaked car.
Before too long, I saw lights flashing and heard sirens. Before I saw any police, I saw the road crew come in so they could clean up the mess and get more than one lane of traffic flowing again. The trucker told me that he was taking off so he would could his delivery and wished me well. As the trucker walked away, I saw a police officer, so I walked up to him and explained that I was the witness who had called and gave my testimony of what I saw. True to my word, I said nothing about Billy admitting to drinking that night. I reasoned that my testimony of anything beyond what I actually saw would only count as hearsay and that the cops would use a breathalyzer anyway. Once I got through everything, the officer asked me to wait in my car in case they needed anything else from me.
I waited in my car for about ten minutes when a different officer came up and tapped on the passenger window of my, which I rolled down so we could talk. The officer gave me a paper form and a pen and asked me to write down my testimony, along with my contact information. He also thanked me for staying saying, “Not a lot of people stay, so thank you.” I filled up the allowed space on the form with my testimony, finishing just as the officer came to retrieve it. He thanked me again for staying and told me that I may be called to testify in court, but that that was unlikely. With that, I drove off, getting home around 12:30 AM.
The next morning, around 6:45 AM, Billy’s dad called me to ask how his son was doing. I gave him the gist of what had happened and suggested that if he hadn’t heard from his son, that he call the Baltimore City police for more information. He thanked me and wished me a good day before hanging up. While the emotion strongest in Billy’s dad’s voice was concern, a close second was annoyance. I think that Billy was arrested for driving under the influence and spent the night in jail. I also suspect that it wasn’t Billy’s first time in that situation.
What I took from this experience more than anything else is how important it is to listen to promptings from the Spirit, even when we don’t realize that’s what they are. I saw Billy switching back and forth between lanes with enough room to avoid him. I decided to hang back and watch what he was doing, rather than speed up and pass him (which may have made me a part of the accident). Once the accident occurred, I pulled over to check on him. All of that was from the Spirit, subtly directing me, first keeping me safe, then keeping Billy safe. I’m grateful that I was able hear the promptings and that I heeded them.
Traffic had been heavy near the city, but it opened up as I got farther away. On the freeway I was on, there are four lanes, which I will reference to as the lane closest to the center median as lane one and so on, with lane four being the far right lane. As I neared the Fort McHenry tunnel, I tried changing lanes, moving from lane three to lane two (with the ultimate destination being lane one), but I saw a car in lane one move over to lane two where I wanted to be. I was annoyed that he moved to where I wanted to be, so I slowed down and let him pass me.
Once he was in front of me, I kept an eye on him. He kept moving from lane to lane, never using his blinker. I thought he was either a dumb kid messing around or was distracted (likely on a cell phone). As I watched him, I noticed an electric sign with a flashing orange arrow in lane one, indicating that we needed to merge to the right—the Fort McHenry tunnel is made up of four tunnels with two lanes each (two tunnels going north and two going south) and occasionally half of the tunnels will be closed for maintenance, which was the case that night. Not only did the driver who kept moving around not see the electric arrow, he drifted too far to the left and hit the center median, sending sparks flying. Seconds after he hit the median, his car hit the electric arrow and he careened across the other lanes, finally stopping in lane four.
After witnessing the crash, I quickly decided to stop and see if the driver was okay. I pulled over just ahead of him, parking my car in lane four with my hazard lights flashing (in retrospect, I should have pulled all the way over into the shoulder, though my car was fine where it was). A truck driver also saw the crash and stopped his rig, blocking traffic immediately behind us. I walked up to the crashed car (a white sedan that I would guess was at least ten years old), which judging from the damage, would never be drivable again. The driver, a white male in his early twenties with a scruffy beard, was in shock but otherwise appeared to be fine. He rolled down the window so we could speak. While not word for word, our conversation went something like this:
ME: You okay, man?
HIM: Uh, I think so.
ME: Okay, good. Have you called 911, yet?
HIM: No.
ME: Okay, I’m going to call them.
HIM: Can I call my dad first?
ME: Let me call and get emergency services out here first, but after I call, yeah, you can call your dad.
I made the call and told the dispatcher where we were, which was easy since we had stopped right next to a mile marker. She told me that crews would be on the way soon. I then asked the kid (whose name was Billy) for his dad’s number so I could call. With the number dialed, I passed Billy the phone. His dad didn’t pick up, which makes sense since it was approaching midnight and my number would only show up as “unknown.” Billy left a voicemail and passed the phone back. With the calls made, we waited.
During all of this, the trucker walked over and checked on us and told me that he would wait for the road crew to arrive before taking off. I expressed my gratitude and he walked back to the cab of his truck. I asked Billy if he wanted to get out of the car and he decided that was a good idea. I could tell that he was still in shock, so I decided to talk to him to try to get his mind off of what happened. I asked him if had done any drinking that night (which I realize now was not a great opener), with the assurance that I wouldn’t say anything to the police. His response? “Obviously.” I told him that at least he was okay, so things would work out. He then started having a bit of a panic attack, saying that he wished that he had died in the crash. He even got in my face a bit too close and said that if I had a gun that I should shoot him. I think he was worried about getting a DUI on his record and didn’t want to face the consequences. I tried to calm him down, but nothing worked, so I ended up just walking away, leaving Billy to lean against the side of his wreaked car.
Before too long, I saw lights flashing and heard sirens. Before I saw any police, I saw the road crew come in so they could clean up the mess and get more than one lane of traffic flowing again. The trucker told me that he was taking off so he would could his delivery and wished me well. As the trucker walked away, I saw a police officer, so I walked up to him and explained that I was the witness who had called and gave my testimony of what I saw. True to my word, I said nothing about Billy admitting to drinking that night. I reasoned that my testimony of anything beyond what I actually saw would only count as hearsay and that the cops would use a breathalyzer anyway. Once I got through everything, the officer asked me to wait in my car in case they needed anything else from me.
I waited in my car for about ten minutes when a different officer came up and tapped on the passenger window of my, which I rolled down so we could talk. The officer gave me a paper form and a pen and asked me to write down my testimony, along with my contact information. He also thanked me for staying saying, “Not a lot of people stay, so thank you.” I filled up the allowed space on the form with my testimony, finishing just as the officer came to retrieve it. He thanked me again for staying and told me that I may be called to testify in court, but that that was unlikely. With that, I drove off, getting home around 12:30 AM.
The next morning, around 6:45 AM, Billy’s dad called me to ask how his son was doing. I gave him the gist of what had happened and suggested that if he hadn’t heard from his son, that he call the Baltimore City police for more information. He thanked me and wished me a good day before hanging up. While the emotion strongest in Billy’s dad’s voice was concern, a close second was annoyance. I think that Billy was arrested for driving under the influence and spent the night in jail. I also suspect that it wasn’t Billy’s first time in that situation.
What I took from this experience more than anything else is how important it is to listen to promptings from the Spirit, even when we don’t realize that’s what they are. I saw Billy switching back and forth between lanes with enough room to avoid him. I decided to hang back and watch what he was doing, rather than speed up and pass him (which may have made me a part of the accident). Once the accident occurred, I pulled over to check on him. All of that was from the Spirit, subtly directing me, first keeping me safe, then keeping Billy safe. I’m grateful that I was able hear the promptings and that I heeded them.
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