Hump Day in Atlanta
Aug. 1st, 2007 11:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeanvieveStill south. Still humid. Still vaguely sticky feeling all day even hiding in air conditioned conference rooms.
Dave told me a funny story about being in Cleveland with Fay last week. Okay, not funny at all to him and yet hysterical to me. Apparently he and Fay were held up at gunpoint by two assailants that took her purse. And all that he could think as they ran away was to look around for me hiding somewhere close, and ask Fay if I was really there somewhere.
I am by all indicators irrevocably linked in his thoughts to the natural and unnatural disasters that shape his life. Personally, it gets me all choked up and wishing I'd been there. I've only been at gunpoint once. Well, once at close range. Once at long range shot at for trespassing, but as I never actually saw the gun I'll just take it on faith. And one knife. But that someone Dave should have his life flash before his eyes without me there to take note and mock it? Unthinkable.
Disasters with Dave: Skidding car within first few months of knowing, no impact. Accident 1 - pickup truck T-boned while we were passengers. Accident 2 - stuck in some midwestern town while awaiting repairs on sheared off electrical system. Accident 3 - Ogallala. Not precisely damaging, save for olefactory and morale. Accident 4 - tall svelt blond I hooked him up with that even now drives him batshit to even remember. Accident 5 - Tygershark trailer and Steve's truck smashed to smithereens by semi with us in it while sitting still, scarring his leg. Accident 6 - Him hitting the guard rail while sliding on ice. Accident 7 - Witnesses to murder. Technically 8 if the skid counts.
I told him about wanting to throw up and wishing he'd been there to throw up on, and it just wasn't the same as a purse snatch and gunpoint. Twit nearly volunteered his wallet that wasn't asked for. Mental note - reinforce lack of volunteering as a survival skill in the boy.
Ah, devoted friendships.
Dave told me a funny story about being in Cleveland with Fay last week. Okay, not funny at all to him and yet hysterical to me. Apparently he and Fay were held up at gunpoint by two assailants that took her purse. And all that he could think as they ran away was to look around for me hiding somewhere close, and ask Fay if I was really there somewhere.
I am by all indicators irrevocably linked in his thoughts to the natural and unnatural disasters that shape his life. Personally, it gets me all choked up and wishing I'd been there. I've only been at gunpoint once. Well, once at close range. Once at long range shot at for trespassing, but as I never actually saw the gun I'll just take it on faith. And one knife. But that someone Dave should have his life flash before his eyes without me there to take note and mock it? Unthinkable.
Disasters with Dave: Skidding car within first few months of knowing, no impact. Accident 1 - pickup truck T-boned while we were passengers. Accident 2 - stuck in some midwestern town while awaiting repairs on sheared off electrical system. Accident 3 - Ogallala. Not precisely damaging, save for olefactory and morale. Accident 4 - tall svelt blond I hooked him up with that even now drives him batshit to even remember. Accident 5 - Tygershark trailer and Steve's truck smashed to smithereens by semi with us in it while sitting still, scarring his leg. Accident 6 - Him hitting the guard rail while sliding on ice. Accident 7 - Witnesses to murder. Technically 8 if the skid counts.
I told him about wanting to throw up and wishing he'd been there to throw up on, and it just wasn't the same as a purse snatch and gunpoint. Twit nearly volunteered his wallet that wasn't asked for. Mental note - reinforce lack of volunteering as a survival skill in the boy.
Ah, devoted friendships.
