The Other Drummer

The other day El Presedente was in town. On day two of his visit I was dutifully riding the train to work. (I’ve been much better about riding the train lately – I haven’t driven to work in a couple weeks.) As we approached the Courthouse stop Mr. Train Driver said we were going to have to wait a few minutes because of the presidential motorcade. Great. I Twittered that I’d be stuck waiting for the motorcade.

Sure enough, we waited a few minutes at Courthouse before Mr. Train Driver said we could proceed to Gallivan, but we’d have to wait there. When we got to Gallivan I considered jumping ship and walking the rest of the way, but decided against it reasoning that maybe the wait at Gallivan would be short too.

I opened up The Lappy and using Salt Lake’s beautiful free Wifi jumped on the Internet. Looking at Twitter, I saw that someone had replied to my original tweet about being stuck, and said he needed to be downtown in 45 minutes and asked what parts to avoid. From that point on I Twittered where I saw traffic problems from my phone. Really, it’s pretty cool that nowadays we can communicate this way. But I digress.

The train started moving again and we got as far as Temple Square and Mr. Train Driver said we weren’t going any further, he was heading back to Sandy and everyone needed to get off.

As I walked toward work I came to 300 West, near KSL, and there was a cop in the street preventing anyone from passing. The motorcade was neigh.

Here are some pics I snapped with ye ol’ iPhone. The camera on the iPhone is kinda crappy. Sorry.

About a dozen motorcycle cops came first. The whole motorcade was bookin’ it – probably doing between 40-50 mph.

The President was in one of these limos. It was interesting to see that they weren’t traveling in the same lane. Security measure I presume.

There go the limos. There were also probably about a half dozen Suburbans overall, some with crazy-looking comms equipment on their roofs.

Note the rolled-down rear windows in the Suburban in the above picture. The back tailgate window was also open and had what I believe was a sharpshooter (sniper) looking out the back. It was then and there that I was glad I had decided against mooning the motorcade.

After more cops there was an ambulance bringing up the rear with its lights on, just in case.

I admit it was pretty cool to see everything. I wonder if the President even thinks about all the measures and precautions that are taken for him, or if he’s used to it now and it’s just part of the job.

Some birds built a nest in a drain pipe over our patio and a baby bird fell out of it. I think it probably had a jerk older brother or something who pushed it, but that’s pure speculation on my part.

It looked so helpless sitting there alone chirping on our patio that I couldn’t just step on it – I had to return it to its home. So I donned some gloves (it had talons, you know), stood on a chair and nudged it back into the drainpipe from which it came.

The bird looked a lot like the one pictured above, except without the nest.

This is my experience riding the train home last night. I wrote most of it as the events were happening, so it’s a little choppy. Enjoy.

You gotta be kidding me. I don’t leave work until almost 7:00 on a Friday. To make things worse, most people are walking to the Jazz game. Without knowing it, they’re rubbing it in my face: “Ha! You’re just getting off work? We’ve already been home, had dinner and come back and are now going to an NBA playoff game. Sucker.”

I board the train. Some woman/girl/chick is yelling into her Bluetooth headset. I believe she’s talking to her mother. “If I had, like, fifty bucks, I would have had Amber run down here.” Something about frozen coffee. I’m not the only one who’s annoyed. People keep glaring back at her. Of course, she could move to the back of the train where there aren’t any other passengers. No. That would be considerate.

“When was the last time I was out late? Besides that night with Jodie, I haven’t been out late since Charles was in my life.”

I could list a few reasons why Charles may have left.

As I consider whether or not I should inform her (in an equally loud voice) that I’m blogging her conversation, the unbelievable happens: Two middle-aged women wearing “Hillary Clinton” stickers and carrying a Hillary Clinton yard sign get on the train. They begin talking to the man next to me:

“Are you a republican?”

Oh no. #$&% no. They’re going to start a political conversation about Hillary. I check under my seat for a revolver, lead pipe, candlestick – something from Clue that I can use to end my misery. Maybe I can use the rope and hang myself on the bar with the little hand lassos. Nothing. The brilliant Hillary supporters don’t sit down before the train starts moving and get thrown back a couple of steps. I take some smug satisfaction in this.

One of them sits down across from me. I wonder if I should engage her in conversation. I’m extremely curious as to whether or not she really thinks Hillary still has a shot, which is to say I’m wondering if she’s delusional.

Charles’ Ex is now off the phone.

Wait. She’s back on the phone. She’s going to get off at 4500 South. Great. That’s after my stop.

Now MY phone rings. It’s my sister in-law. I answer, and in a voice louder than I should have used, “I’M ON THE TRAIN. SEND ME A TEXT MESSAGE.” I hang up.

The Talker gets up and walks past me! I think she may be getting off! No such luck. She stays standing directly behind my seat. “Let’s stay on the phone until we find each other.” Yeah, that’s a brilliant idea. I exchange a knowing look with the Hillary Clinton supporter. Unspoken words were exchanged: this girl is a moron.

Yes, I had a bit of a moment with Ms. Hillary Clinton supporter.

I continue writing this. “Oh yeah! I absolutely love riding TRAX.” Ms. Clinton supporter and I look at each other again and this time we start laughing. Out loud. I look around the train. Some people are looking back at me. Are they amused? Are they wondering what I’m laughing at? I think they’re in on the joke as one guy has actually taken OFF his headphones to pay attention to the situation.

My stop snuck up on me. Unprepared, I quickly close the laptop and gather my things. As I stand to leave with my armful of stuff, under her breath Ms. Clinton Supporter says, “Lucky you.” I grin at her. It turns out Charles’ Ex was exiting the train as well, so there was nothing left to say. As I exited the train I thought perhaps I should have told Ms. Clinton Supporter to check TheOtherDrummer.com for a full recap of tonight’s events, but considering how die-hard a (soon to be disappointed) supporter she was, I don’t think she would have appreciated my aforementioned comments.

What started out as a potentially depressing train ride turned out to be quite entertaining and humorous…and the entertainment and humor came from the most unlikely places.

President Hinckley passed away tonight at about 7:00 pm. Details are slow in coming out, but I can only assume it’s from old age – he was 97 years old.

My initial reaction is that, well, it’s hard to believe. He’s been the president of the church most of my life and it just doesn’t seem real at all. One thing I am happy about though, is that now he’s with his wife who died a few years ago and who he missed terribly. I can’t imagine how lonely I’d be without my wife and we’ve only been married about three years. To be married for decades and then to be left alone – it must have been horribly difficult. Fortunately, families are eternal and I know he is with her again.

If you’re unfamiliar with President Hinckley and his teachings, here is an excerpt from one of his talks, My Testimony, from the April 2000 General Conference. It’s my favorite talk of his:

But of all the things for which I feel grateful this morning, one stands out preeminently. That is a living testimony of Jesus Christ, the Son of the Almighty God, the Prince of Peace, the Holy One.

“And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us.” He, the Son of the Father, came to earth. He condescended to leave His royal courts on high–where He stood as Prince, the Firstborn of the Father–to take upon Himself mortality, to be born in a manger, the humblest of all places, in a vassal state ruled by the centurions of Rome.

You can read the rest of the talk here.

It’s my testimony that he was a prophet of God. He was a wonderful man who gave his life in service. And while I mourn his death, I know that the Lord will call a new prophet just as in Biblical times.

The work of God “will go forth boldly, nobly and independent till it has penetrated every continent, visited every clime, swept every country, and sounded in every ear, till the purposes of God shall be accomplished, and the Great Jehovah shall say the work is done.”

Oh yeah. This is totally my neighborhood. Some dude tries to walk out of the store with some pizzas, is confronted by an employee who he stabs. Genius Pizza Boy then decides to leave his truck in the parking lot and run to his nearby apartment.

A police bloodhound tracked him down. Apparently those dogs can smell pepperoni for miles.

Now, I’ve had some serious cravings. There was this one time I crossed into another state to find these frozen burritos I used to eat in college. But I’ve never broken the law to satisfy a craving, and certainly not to the point of injuring someone or something.

Wait. Scratch that.

I did run over a cat once on a late-night run to Baskin Robbins. I yelled at it to move out of the road – or maybe I mumbled something, I can’t remember – and it didn’t listen and the place was about to close, so, yeah. Thud. But let me tell you, few things taste quite as good as a three scoop sundae of Quarterback Crunch ice cream covered in caramel with whipped cream and a few of those fake cherries on top. Totally worth it.

Baskin Robbins logo from here, original story on KSL here.