Friday, October 06, 2006
It Finally Happened
Yep, it finally did.
Here . . . . . Let me back up a little.
Yesterday I'm sitting around the house doing whatever it was I was doing, likely working on my latest miniature flying machine, (just wait until you all see this one!) when all of a sudden the phone rings. Now it's not very often that my phone rings during the day. The wife's rings constantly but most people know that I'm likely sleeping and won't answer mine anyway, so they don't even bother calling it. Most people that really know me know that I fucking hate telephones and likely won't answer the son of a bitch even if I'm not sleeping, so they still call hers.
Anyway, the phone rings. I grumble a few obscenities, look at the caller ID and see that it's a strange number. Probably some dumb ass with a wrong number I figure. Since there's few things that make me giggle uncontrollably like fucking with poor bastards that get wrong numbers, I figure what the hell and I answer the damn thing. Well . . . . Smoking pot used to make me giggle almost as uncontrollably as fucking with poor bastards that got wrong numbers, but I quit doing that years ago. Smoking pot that is, I still fuck with poor bastards that get wrong numbers. I wonder how much fun it would be fucking with poor bastards that get wrong numbers, while smoking pot. Damn. Probably wind up needing an oxygen tank, or puking by the time that was over. Anyway.
Me - Hello, Big J Enterprises Worldwide, Big J speaking.
Guy on the phone - Uhhhh . . . . . Yeah . . . . . Um I'm looking for Justin?
Me - Well so am I and that sorry bastard better hope that you find him before I do.
Guy on the phone - Ummmmm . . . . . . I think maybe I have a wrong number.
Me - (Thinking "no shit Sherlock") No, this is Justin, I was just shittin' ya, what the hell can I do for ya?
Guy on the phone - (laughing) Oh OK, had me worried for a minute there. Anyway, I got your number from a friend of mine and . . . . . .
So this guy goes on to tell me this long winded spiel about how he owns his own business based out of the Billings airport that deals entirely with high value and time critical freight moving between Billings and all points elsewhere and vice versa. He's got a Cessna Caravan Super Cargomaster that he flies all over the place hauling high dollar electronic gizmos for big corporations and the government, as well as really urgent medical shit like about to be transplanted human innards and stuff. Damn easy job and pays assloads of money.
Me - So what the hell does this have to do with me?
Guy on the phone - Well . . . . Here's the deal . . . . .
He goes on to tell me all about how his little transport business is growing by leaps and bounds, and he's got another plane ordered but Cessna is about 8 months out on the damn thing. Meanwhile he's working double time trying to keep up and his ass is dragging the ground. Where I come in, he tells me, is that he's looking to hire somebody to ride along with him on his runs, help him load and unload shit, (yep, flying dockhand, sounds a lot like what I do now, only without the flying), and in return besides paying a rather generous wage, he's willing to teach this person how to fly and help him or her get their IFR and Commercial ratings. That way when the new plane comes in whoever the lucky bastard is, can jump in one of them and start up a second run.
Me - Sounds like a hell of a deal. But still, why me?
Guy on the phone - Like I said, I got your name from a friend of mine and he told me that you'd love to get your pilot's license, but just never figured you could afford it. If you're half as interested in flying as my friend told me you are, then it shouldn't be any problem for you to bust ass and have your license by the time my second plane comes in. Besides, you already know the freight business, so I don't figure it'd be much of a problem for you to pick up the particulars of air freight over what you have been doing.
Me - Wow, cool.
Just then I hear this huge ruckus coming from the living room. Seems that Mrs. Justin is jumping up and down and screaming like a fucking lunatic. Now if there's one thing in the world that I hate worse than talking on a Goddamn telephone, it's trying to hear a Goddamn telephone over somebody that's jumping up and down and screaming like a fucking lunatic.
"GODDAMN IT WOMAN, GET THE KID TO KILL THE FUCKING WASP AND SHUT THE HELL UP, CAN'T YOU SEE I'M ON THE PHONE?"
"WE WON! WE WON!" she keeps screaming.
"I know we won, I just got offered the job of a lifetime, now if you'd shut the hell up maybe I could find out the details before the battery goes dead in this piece of shit cellphone"
"NO REALLY, WE WON! THE LOTTERY, WE WON! NOW WE CAN BUY THAT DOUBLEWIDE!" She says, still screaming actually.
Now I really want her to stop screaming before the crackheads down the street hear her and storm the castle gates to get that golden ticket. I start looking for my .45, I'll be goddamned if those worthless bastards are gonna take MY new doublewide without a fight.
Just as I look over her shoulder and see the numbers there on the computer screen which do indeed match the ones on the ticket that she's flailing about like an epileptic on crack, I start to hear this voice, a far off voice, and it's weird, like it's coming from all around me and nowhere all at the same time. It's a familiar voice, but I still can't figure where it's coming from. Then, as if I had been grabbed from behind and tossed into another dimension by some repulsively twisted beasty fresh from the depths of the ninth circle of hell, my eyes are cruelly pried open and struggle to see my wife looking back rather annoyed at me through the foggy mist of my recent slumber. Then I realize where I am.
"Honey, really, it's time. Get your lazy ass out of bed damn it, it's time to go play truck driver"
And you thought YOU were disappointed. Even my subconscious has a sick sense of humor it seems.
Anyway, here's the airplane video from last weekend. Enjoy.