2008-02-22 20:05:26 ET|
Standing holding a rickity tweleve foot ladder. Looking at my cell phone. Noting that there is another 45 minutes to break. Thinking how smoking a cigarette in minus nine degree weather, will give me the equivelent buzz of two beers.
Adjusting my less than chic white hard hat,that we mandatorily have to wear. That I decided to adorn with a grimacing half bio-mechanical skull, via a sharpie pen that I drew whilest freezing my nuggets off in a less then desireable port-a-potty drips sweat down my brow.
Looking to the right. I see an electrician. A portly fellow. Clad in a weathered flannel, skin tight Dickies,steel toed boots that have seen their share of pig shit, and an over brimming tool belt with all sorts of screwdrivers, meters and gadgets. He looks lost.
To the right of me. Is a wall. A textured wall, that resembles unfinished fiberglass. With a small opening with three vales that are closed. One reads oxygen. The other two are nitrogen, and some fancy medical gas. Thoughts of pulling the levers have crossed my mind.
But I have this unsavory job, of bracing a ladder. The smells of paint thinners and floor adhesives fill the air. So much in fact, that my gum almost tastes of it. But not moving and holding this ladder is my current menial task.
Did I mention what's at the top of this ladder? A co-worker. A veteran plumber. A person who has the character of Rainman and Gilbert Grape combined. Even Scooby Doo would have a hard time conversing with this freak! A 350lb bundle of gross stupidity. Not that I'm pointing out that he's rotund and ginormous. Nobody's perfect. Not even I. Just his lack of safety and personality and overall attitude sucks. A dummy with a chip on his shoulder! Did I mention hygene? Imagine never taking a shower, or at least skipping a few weeks here and there. You know the type. We all do. Comes into your place of business,and asks for service of some sort. And you can smell the stale sweat, as they lurch over the counter. It rolls off them, like a fragrent fart. Your almost scared shitless to even lean on the counter after they do. You expect a hazmat team to rush in and sanitize everything they touch, or even where they walked. That's this fellow. And he's on a ladder right above me!
Squirming around, a copper fitting plumets to the floor. I look down. Then up. Unwantingly. I see even tighter Dickies above. A friend walks by and says his ass is bigger then Charlie Browns Great Pumpkin. I smile, trying not to laugh. Still looking on. Holding that ladder. I zone.
Thoughts of tipping the ladder pass thru the noggin.Just to see if the chaos therory really works. Then I ponder, how would the cement floor feel. Sad. When you wonder about the feelings of an inantimate object such as a floor.
I look back at my cell. Only eight minutes have passed...