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.

Nothing says “tough”, “rugged” and “original” like sheep.

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.

I did. Seriously. We were presenting collateral ideas to a client that happens to be an educational institution. I was trying to say “bachelor’s and master’s degrees” and instead I stumbled over the first two words and said “bastard degree”.

My brain went kind of cloudy. I don’t think I’ve ever said “bastard” before in my life and now I’d just said it in front of a client. What to do?? I could clearly hear the voice of my father in-law in my head: take it a step further. But how? Bastard isn’t a normal part of my vocabulary. It didn’t even “slip out.” I just mumbled the perfect combination of words to result in me cussing. I honestly don’t remember exactly what I said, but it was something to the effect of, “Did I just say ‘bastard’?” Everyone agreed that I did and I went on reading the copy.

Later in the meeting there was another opportunity for me to slip “bastard” into the conversation while poking a bit of fun at myself, which I did.

I’ve now said used “bastard” seven times in this post. I think that oughtta do it for the next 28 years or so.

Photo courtesy of here.

OK. So here’s the story: work. Actually, I’m not sure why the *&%# I haven’t been writing as much lately. Work has definitely been more insane than usual. And by “usual” I mean “than it was last October.” Yes, work has been taking its toll and my brain has been mush. And Brain Mush is not conducive to writing.

Honestly, Call of Duty 4 has been my “decompression” activity lately. Yes, sniping terrorists not only is good for world peace but it’s much more mindless than writing. Also, writing isn’t a spectator sport – to really dig into something I need to shut out everything else and focus. However, my wife will watch me play COD4 and be a second set of eyes which has me promoted to rank of First Lieutenant II. I now have a sweet new assault rife with a red dot scope. Thank you honey!

I’m also getting old and fat, which means getting to the gym is much more important which means getting up early which means getting to bed early which means less blogging. Curse my love handles!! Curse them!

OK. Lunch break is over. Back to the grindstone.