Perfect Pitch-Fork

     I have been writing, recording, and producing alternative hip-hop music since the end of 1999. My friend Kong was the one who had originally got me interested in it. He has always loved to sing and has a great voice for it. Ever since we were little, we would always rap and sing songs together. I remember in the summers during elementary school he would stay at my house sometimes for 3-4 days at a time. At night we would sometimes write and sing funny songs. We still remember most of them still to this day. As we got older we would usually get together and have a few drinks and sing songs. He has always done an amazing rendition of "Sukiyaki", so people would egg him on to sing it.
     One day he was messing around with Microsoft windows "sound recorder". We recorded ourselves singing and rapping some old songs we had written when we were in elementary school. It was just something we had fooled around with a couple times when we were bored and drinking.
However, as the years passed I began to get really involved in it. Kong had downloaded some professional music recording software on my computer and I had began writing songs. I was not very educated at using the software to produce any professional grade songs, but it didn't stop me from trying. Over the years I became more and more involved in it. The song writing aspect of it has always been my forte, and the more and more I worked at it I eventually became pretty good.
     Anyways, In the summer of 2003 I was living with my brother Ian in the apartment below my mothers house. She hated hearing the music all the time, but she learned to accept it after a while.
This one night I was at home hanging out with Kong, we were having a few beers and working on a song. My brother was out of town working for the weekend so we had the place to ourselves. I remember that the song we were working on was coming along beautifully when a knock came at the door. It was Ian's friend Larry.
     Ian and Larry had been close friends ever since they were very young. I explained to him that Ian was out of town and that Kong and I were busy working on a song. He asked if we would mind if he hung out for a little while. A few years before he had moved out into the boondocks of Pennsylvania with his mother. Occassionally on the weekends he would come into town to hang out with friends and go out to the bars. Larry said that he wouldn't bother us and that he wasn't planning on staying long. He said that he was planning on going out to the bars and just needed a place to "pre-game". I told him it was fine as long as he didn't bother us. We were in the process of recording, so it was very important that we have silence so that any background noises didn't ruin our song. He had kept to his word and everything was going fine.
    About a half hour later, another one of Ian's friends; Ron had showed up. Ron had a tendency of being a jerk. He is one of those guys who is cool, but once he gets drunk he likes to start fights with people. I told him that Ian is not home and that we were busy. He noticed that Larry was there and he started talking to him. They made plans to go out to the bar together in a little while. Somehow, Ron convinced me to let him in too since they would be leaving soon. I told them that they had to hang out in the kitchen because Kong and I were recording in the living room. They ended up drinking a few beers and getting loud. I told them that they have to leave. They finished their beers and left for the bars.
     Kong and I continued to work on our song for another few hours. We were just about finished with the song when Larry and Ron returned. I told them that they "cannot hang out here". But they pleaded with me, and promised that they would just hang out in the kitchen and be quiet. I told them that I didn't care, I didn't want them there. But they just wouldn't leave and they kept pleading with me. So eventually, I again caved in. But I told them, if they are loud at all I am going to kick them out.
     It didn't take long before I could hear Ron and Larry arguing in the kitchen. I didn't know what they were arguing about at first, but it escalated quickly. I went into the kitchen and told them to "get out of my house now". Ron was drunk and very upset at Larry. I found out that apparently, Larry had marijuana and Ron was mad that Larry would not share with him. He called Larry; "A selfish piece if shit" and told him that he would "beat his ass". I told them that I don't care about any of that and that I just want them both to leave now! But Ron wasn't even listening to me, he was just arguing with Larry still and trying to start a fight with him. I started to get very angry and threatened to call the police.
     Finally, Ron exploded verbally. He said; "Fuck you Larry, you're a fucking faggot. You're lucky I don't fuck you up". Then, as he was heading out the door he stopped to address Kong and I. "And fuck you too Dan, and you too Kong! You guys are fucking pussies. I'll fuck you guys up too"! Then he walked out the door and slammed it behind him.
     Now, up to this point I had been calm about the whole situation. I knew they were taking advantage of me by using my house as a place to drink, but I had let it go. However, after Ron had threatened Kong and I for absolutely no reason, my blood began to boil. I couldn't believe what had just happened. I looked at Kong and I said; "Did he just call us pussies and say he would fuck us up"?! Kong looked really worked up and he goes "Yea what the fuck"!?
    I said "Fuck that", and I jumped up absolutely infuriated. I hurried out the door, and for some reason I grabbed a broom that was leaning up against the wall on my way out. When I got out front of the house I seen Ron, he was about half way up the street. Suddenly, I seen one of the funniest things I have ever seen in my entire life. I see Kong go jogging past me holding a pitchfork in his hand, and he hollers; "Hey Ron, come here! I gotta tell you something"!
    
     On the back porch of my apartment, there was a whole bunch of old farming tools for some reason. There was a few old shovels, rakes, hoes, and a pitchfork. Apparently, Kong had seen me grab the broom and so he went and grabbed the first thing he could find. To this day I couldn't tell you why I grabbed the broom. I think it was just because I was so pissed off at the whole situation. First of all, I told them that I didn't want them there numerous times. Secondly, they promised to be quiet and that they wouldn't bother us. But the final straw, was when he threatened my friend and I for absolutely no reason. I was so angry that I was shaking.

     Anyways, Ron stopped and faced us when he seen us coming towards him. He says; "What are you pussies gonna do? Is that broom, Dan? HAHA, you don't have the balls to hit me with that". The moment he said that I cocked it back and blasted him across the face with it as hard as I possibly could. He immediately went down onto one knee holding his face. "Ahhhhhhhh" he yelped. "You're going to fucking jail man! I can't believe you just did that!" he hollered fearfully with tears in his eyes. This seemed to just infuriate me more. I went towards him "You want me to hit you again?!"I said. He screeched; "Nooooo" and then scurried away quickly.
     I turned and started walking back towards my house, I couldn't believe what I had just done. Kong goes; "Fuck Ron man, he totally deserved that shit". As we were walking back towards the house I seen Larry. He had come outside and apparently witnessed the whole thing. He goes; "Dude, that was the greatest thing I ever seen in my life". Needless to say, Larry never really cared for Ron. I said; "All we wanted to do was work on our music, why did you guys have to bother us?"

     Anyways, about a half hour later the cops showed up at my apartment.

Cops: Who hit the guy with the broom

Me: I hit him with the broom

Cops: Why?

Me: Because he threatened me and my friend. I told him I didn't want him here in the first place!

Cops: Well then why was he here?

Me: Because he wouldn't listen.

Cops: Is that why the fight started?

Me: No, the fight started because the two of them showed up uninvited. And then Ron wanted to fight Larry because he wouldn't smoke weed with him.

     The cops immediately attacked Larry and I could hear him hollering, "Why are you searching me? I didn't do anything"! They quickly locate the marijuana on him and place it on the table. Then they turn their attention back to me for the rest of the story.

Cops: So then why did you hit him with the Broom?

Me: Because he threatened my friend and I for no reason.....

Suddenly, we heard a loud commotion coming from the kitchen and the cops went running in. Larry had picked up the marijuana, ran to the bathroom, threw it in the toilet and flushed it. One of the cops grabbed it out of the toilet before it flushed and the other one grabbed Larry in a very tight choke hold. They carried Larry out of my apartment horizontally and took him jail. Kong and I were waiting for the cops to come back in...but for some reason they never did. We were absolutely astonished. After about a half hour had passed, we went back to work and finally finished our song.

It was such a crazy night. However, looking back on the incident I am very lucky and thankful. First of all, I am very lucky that I didn't get an assault charge on my record. But secondly, I am very happy that Kong didn't attack Ron with that pitchfork. He was certainly angry enough to have used it, but we're lucky he didn't. Things could have ended up far worse than they actually did. In the end I think that Kong was pretty shaken up by the incident. The "pitch" in his voice ended up being a little shaky on that song.



D Boone Productions
www.soundclick.com/dboone

The advantages of being oblivious

     I have a friend named Darryl. He is between 60 and 65 years old, he is really not sure. In fact, he doesn't know his own birthday, although he thinks it is in December. Regardless, of all the times I have seen him, I am yet to see him in a bad mood. He is always excited about something. Whatever he is doing that day, he is always pumped up about it. Whether he is going to a HS football/basketball game that night, or if he is on his way to church, it doesn't matter. He is always wearing his watch and says that he has to be here or there by the time that the little hand gets here and the big hand gets there.
     Darryl lives with his brother Darwin who doesn't approve of him going to his friends houses, for whatever reason. His brother gives him $10 every week for spending money. But because Darryl is such a nice guy, pretty much everywhere he goes people give him whatever he wants for free.

     Darryl has volunteered at "Meals on Wheels" for well over 20 years. My former neighbor used to work there and so that is how he became friends with Darryl. They are pretty close and so Darryl usually stops by every day if even for only 15 minutes or so. I used to hang out at my neighbors house almost every day, that is how I became familiar with him.
      One day when I was hanging out over there, and Darryl showed up with a handful of medals he had won in the Special Olympics. He had showed up wearing them around his neck very proudly. He boasted about how he has won "gold" in cycling and golf for like 10 years in a row. Most of the year he is riding his bicycle all around town. It is his prized possession. Anyways, during this one conversation, I had asked him if he knew who the President of the United States is. I wasn't trying to pick on him, it had just kind of come up in conversation. He had absolutely no idea. In fact, he is completely oblivious to most things aside from his normal routine.
     I suppose that you could compare his education and social skills to that of a 3rd or 4th grader. He cant really spell or comprehend math, but he is quite aware of his surroundings and he can understand most "normal" concepts. He is difficult to explain because I have never met anybody like him. I suppose that he kind of reminds me of "Rain Man", minus the brilliance. He is very timid at times and he has a very kind heart. Sometimes when he stops by he will have a beer, but never more than that. He knows his limits, and he is fine with it. He is fine with everything.
     During one conversation with him, I sort of began to envy him. He is always in a good mood and he lives his life without the fears that I struggle with every day. The only fear he has is that his brother will get mad at him if he is not home on time. He has had the same routine for such a long time, and he is very content with it. I got to wondering what it must be like to be Darryl. His life is so simple and he always seems like his only stresses pertain to his obsession with arriving at his destinations on time.

     Sometimes I wish that I was oblivious to it all. I wish that I didn't worry about wasting my potential. I wish that I didn't have to worry about paying bills. I wish that I didn't often rack my brain trying to understand the meaning of life. I wish that I could sleep easy at night without worrying and stressing about countless things.

     I have often heard people refer to people such as Darryl as "Special". And I have always just assumed it was a politically correct term for "mentally challenged". But as I consider all of the things that stress me out versus the few things that bother Darryl, I began to paint a different perspective. Perhaps the term "special" truly means just that. I do not know many people who are always in a great mood and excited. And I know even less people who are not consumed by their stresses on a daily basis. I am not saying that I wish I was slow, I am just saying that Darryl is truly a special person. And I think that a lot of people could learn a lot about how to be happy in their own lives by admiring his.

Paper football friends - "The art of problem solving"

     During my first semester at SUNY Fredonia, I had enrolled in a film class. It filled one of my communication electives, and it seemed like it would be an easy, fun class to take. When we received our syllabus on the first day, I noticed that 50% of our overall grade hinged on our final project. It was to be a group project with 5 or 6 other students. We had to write a story board, film, and edit a 5 minute conceptual movie. On the day that we were forming groups, I realized that I hadn’t gotten to know anybody in the class. So by default, my group became 3 other guys and one girl who happened to be sitting near me. We were all really nervous about waiting until last minute to start our project, so we started it right away. It’s a good thing we did, because this project would end up being the most time consuming thing I ever did in my college career.

     Everybody in the group (including myself) was a bit introverted, except Kevin. He just so happened to be from Binghamton also and he was a film major. Therefore, he quickly became the “leader” of our project. He had written up this ridiculous concept involving handicap super heroes. It was easy to tell that the whole group thought the concept was stupid, but we just went with it. Nobody wanted to speak up and tell him that that idea seemed foolish, although we were all thinking it.

    We ended up getting together for 3-4 hours almost everyday to film and edit the project. After about a month, we all agreed that our entire concept was a complete disaster. We all knew that we were going to have to scrap the project and all of the hard work and time we had put into it. It was really disheartening for the group. But still, nobody wanted to speak up and tell Kevin that his entire concept was awful. However, since we had spent so much time together, we had become a very close knit group. We even began to hang out together when we were not working on the project. Eventually, we all had a heart-to-heart, and agreed that we would have to start from scratch.

     Anyways, a few days later I woke up with a great idea. I wrote up a story board in about 10 minutes. It was about 2 competitors, Kevin and I. It started with us both being interviewed about our upcoming title match against each other. Then, there would be a 1980’s type montage showing us each going through vigorous training and hyping up the title bout. Finally, the great reveal towards the end was when the match begins. We are sitting at a table staring each other down, and a paper football is lowered between us. (The whole film had very carefully and subjectively hinted that it was going to be a fighting or boxing match of some sort) The match ends with Kevin scoring on a slow-motion field goal that hits me between the eyes. Then, this great celebration ensues followed by post-game interviews. I had solved our problem, now I just had to go to school and pitch it to them.

     On my way to school, I had to stop at the post office and send a rent check. However, when I got to the post office, I realized that I had left my wallet at home and I didn't have any money for a stamp. The landlord only lived about 10 minutes away, so I came up with a great (probably illegal) idea. I filled out the envelope backwards. I put the landlords address as the return address, and my address as the intended recipient. Then, I mailed it without a stamp. Certainly, they would return the mail to sender without postage and my mail would end up where it belonged.

     As I left the post office and boarded the bus for school, I found a $10 bill on the steps. I asked the others on the bus if they had dropped it and received no response. This was going to be my day, I was sure of it.

     When I got to school, I pitched the story to the others and they loved it. We immediately began to film the title match portion of the film. I used the $10 to buy some donuts and persuaded a bunch of random students to "act" as our audience.  A few hours later when we were editing it, we realized that we had made a giant mistake. A number of the scenes that we filmed accidentally had our tripod in it. We were all beginning to feel like we were going to have to shoot it over again. However, I quickly came up with another abstract idea. I said, why don't we just insert; “Tripod Stadium” as our venue title. Everybody loved the idea and it worked out great, yet another problem solved.

     This group ended up becoming the best friends I made in college. Suddenly, the project turned into “fun” and it no longer felt like work. We worked on our project during all of our free time; it ended up becoming our masterpiece.

     During our final class when everybody was presenting their projects, we asked the teacher if we could go last. We didn't tell her why, but we promised her that she would understand during the great reveal.

     As the rest of the class showed their simple, corny, 3-4 minute films, we smiled at each other. When the time came for us to show our film I was sweating a little bit and my stomach felt uneasy. In the end, our film had ended up being 16 minutes long. There were about 60-70 people in the class and they were all laughing hysterically. It completely demolished all of the other projects by miles and miles. When the film ended, the class gave us a standing ovation. We all had the biggest smiles on our faces as we stood up and bowed.

     I heard that the professor for that class had showed our film on the first day of class to some of her future classes. I know she is still the director of the communications department at SUNY Fredonia, so I wouldn't be surprised if she still has it. And even though our whole group had received an A in the class largely because of our film, it wasn't the best part. The best part was that we had become the best of friends. We still continued to hang out long after we had finished the film. They were all a year behind me in school, so the next year after I graduated I would go to Fredonia to hang out with them. There is nothing that would give me more pleasure than to have a copy of the film to show. In fact, I think I will email the professor and all of my "group" to see if any of them still have it.

  
     I remember having to work with another group of students for my most important "capstone" project. This group hated me. My vision for the project was far different from all of the others. It was easy to tell that they were talking bad about me behind my back. So one day I had a conversation with them. I explained that I understand that we have different opinions, but that it is important that we stick together. We are all working towards a common goal, and if we fall apart it will affect us all. Since it was 4 against 1, I realized that this time it was me this time who was holding the group back. I decided to scrap my idea and to go along with the groups decision. Although this group did not become friends in any way, shape, or form, we still worked as a team. It was a difficult experience, but in the end we all came together to get it done and get a good grade.

     Sometimes in life or in our professional field, we will be forced to work with those we would prefer not to. But it is very important to be patient and empathize. If we point fingers and fight with each other, it will never solve anything. When we work against those who we are assigned to work with, it only adds another element/challenge to the task at hand. I believe that if mankind as a whole can just grasp this concept, I think that it would equate to a far happier world for all of us.

    

High School Expulsion

            It was not long after the Columbine tragedy that I was a senior in high school. As a result of this tragedy, many schools in the United States were undergoing massive changes. My school was no exception. The school district had installed video cameras all over and now employed hall monitors to patrol at all times.  Also, students were only allowed to enter and exit the school through the main entrance. Every morning there was a woman who sat at a desk in front of the door and watched all the students enter the building, I have no idea what she was looking for. This was especially a hassle for the students who drove to school. The student parking lot was on the south end of the building, and the only allowed entrance was on the complete other side of the building. The school was located at the top of a large hill, so in the winter it would really be an unpleasant adventure. Perhaps the worst aspect of all this, was the fact that it was completely and utter nonsense. 

            Don’t ask me how these changes could prevent an attack by armed gunmen, but I’m sure it was expensive. The transformation that the school had undergone from my first year through my final year was massive. Basically, all they had done is turn the school into a minimum security jail. They began to tolerate very little in the form of horseplay also. They now employed a “Dean of Students”, who literally was a former prison guard. The guy was a nightmare, and since it was his first year, he was ready to make an example out of some students to flex his muscles.

            The school year was still young when many of the students were already sick and tired of the hall monitors. Everywhere I went, I would get stopped; “Got a pass”? What does a hall pass do exactly? It proves that you asked if you could go take a piss? Do they only give passes to people who are not crazed gunmen? Our school also had “free periods”, which meant that upperclassmen would sometimes have no class to be in. It was a luxury afforded to those students who had already met certain academic criteria. During these periods, students would usually go to the library, cafeteria, or just roam the halls. However, now students on free periods were designated to only a couple areas. They had to report to these designated areas and were no longer allowed to roam free. The hall monitors carried these expensive walkee-talkees in order to communicate with each other. Why this job requires such a tool is beyond me.

           
      Anyways, this one day I was on my way to class when I was stopped by a hall monitor; “Got a pass”? Now, students are allowed approximately 5 minutes between classes to make their way to their next class. At the end of this grace period, a second bell would ring signifying the beginning of the next class. This particular hall monitor, Mrs Trap, was the most annoying person in the entire world. She just had something about her that really bothered me, and so her; “Got a pass”, comment would always irk me a little extra for some reason.

            So, when she had asked me for a pass when it was still between bells, well, it really struck a nerve. I asked her; “For what reason are you asking me for a pass? The bell has not even rung yet”. I was trying to be polite to her, even though I was very annoyed. She began to follow me down the hall and speak into her wallkee-talkee. “Why are you harassing me for? All I am doing is walking to class”. She of course had no answer for me, I think that she realized she was in the wrong. I again asked her; “Why are you following me? I already told you, I don’t have a pass because I don’t need one. The bell hasn't rang yet, I still have like 2 minutes”.

            She still has no response for me and kept following me. “Leave me alone and stop harassing me! What is the matter with you”? She still says nothing and keeps following me down 3 separate hallways. I would stop and she would stop. So, out of anger and frustration, I began to give it back to her.
 “Ok buddy, come on buddy”, I began to pat my leg like she were a Labrador retriever. I continued to do this until I got to my class. "Come on Bud", I said, as she continued to follow me silently.

            Then, just as I arrive at my classroom, a guidance counselor crosses our paths and says; “What are you doing? Don’t talk to her like that”, she scolded. I tell her; “You don’t even know what is going on. This woman is harassing me for no reason”. I enter my classroom just as the bell finally rings. All of the students take their seats and the teacher begins to take attendance as usual.

            A moment later, the guidance counselor walks into the classroom and starts talking to my teacher. Then she points at me and the teacher and all the students look at me. I stand up and very angrily say;

“Why are you pointing at me? Why don’t you mind your own business? I was being harassed for no reason and then you get involved? It had nothing to do with you, and you just jump into my business? Just because I am the student and she is an adult, I must automatically be in the wrong? Get the fuck out of my classroom you stupid bitch”! I was shaking out of anger.

         The class was in awe. I was so upset that it felt like I could breathe smoke and shoot fire out of my ears. I was so sick of staff treating us like prisoners, it wasn't fair. It would have been a lot easier to accept this type of treatment if we had been warned prior to the beginning of the school year.

         When I first started at that school, there would be a group of people sitting on the guard rail in the south parking lot smoking marijuana at all times of the day. But by the time I was a senior, you couldn't get away with a loud fart.
         As a punishment for going off on the guidance counselor, I had ended up getting suspended for a few days. A few weeks later, I through a small roll of masking tape during class and it accidentally hit a substitute teacher in the head. He tried to sent me to the principals office, but I denied throwing it. We went on with the rest of the class, and that was it.
       The next day I was called down to the principals office and suspended indefinitely. I admit that it was a stupid thing to have done, but I swear that I didn't mean to hit him with it. Also, it was a really soft roll of tape and thrown very soft. There is no way that it could have actually hurt him. They made such a big deal out of it tho. I ended up being suspended for like a month, and then I had to have a superintendents hearing with school attorneys and a stenographer. It was ridiculous. I apologized to the teacher extensively. I told him that I was being an idiot and that I did not mean to hit him. They didn't care. They brought in witnesses who gave false testimonies and made me feel like a criminal. These students who gave false statements later told me that the Dean had persuaded them to tear me down. The Dean also sent a police officer to my home to try to scare me. I told this police officer the truth. I explained to him that the Dean just had it out for me and truly hated me for some reason. The officer was very understanding and he actually apologized to me several times for being a jerk when he had first arrived.
      The school board decided to expel me from school. I was not allowed to attend prom, graduation, or any school related function for one calendar year. I was devastated to say the least. They did however, agree to pay for my home-schooling for the final few months so I could graduate on time. I would say that I am disgusted with the school district and especially the Dean. But, one of the home-schooling teachers ended up changing my life. 

            

Verizon

In 2005, I went to Verizon and got my first cell phone. I was always against cell phones because I know a lot of people who have become slaves to them. However, it was a necessary evil since my roommate had one and he didn't want a home phone. Also, I had recently move to Buffalo and I wasn't planning on keeping the generic job I got when I first moved there. I was constantly applying for new jobs for I needed to have a way to be contacted at all times.

Anyways, after about a month, I realized that my phone was unable to receive incoming calls. People had told me; "I tried to call you", on numerous occasions. For a while I just shook it off, my text messages had always worked just fine. It had never dawned on me that I couldn't receive incoming calls, that just wouldn't make any sense. But I eventually realized that I was yet to receive any calls. I tried to call my own phone finally and it said "The person you are calling is not accepting incoming calls".

So I called Verizon customer service and they told me that I had opted to have this feature turned off. I explained to them how ridiculous that sounded, it would pretty much defeat the purpose of having a cell phone at all. They said that they would turn on this feature for me, however, I was still disgruntled. They asked me how they could remedy the situation. I explained how I had been applying for jobs all month, and how this mishap could quite possibly have cost me a great career opportunity. However, they did not seem to display even a touch of empathy. Therefore, I asked to speak to a supervisor.

Once the supervisor was on the phone, I explained to him the situation. I asked him if he would please place a credit on my account in order to somewhat resolve their own admitted error. He told me that they will not do this. He told me that if I couldn't receive calls all month that I should have called at the beginning of the month. Well, my reasoning behind that was very simple. It was a brand new phone and number, so it was impossible for me to know it could not receive calls. Since nobody had my new number and I seldom call myself, it had taken me this long to realize the malfunction.
Finally, I tried to level with the supervisor. I asked him, "Don't you want to make me happy? I am a new customer after all. Haven't you ever heard that the customer is always right"? What he responded with is something I will never forget as long as I live. He said;
"Well Daniel, this it Verizon, and our motto is 'Can you hear me now'? I have already explained to you that you should have called at the beginning of the month if you had an issue. And I have also already explained to you that you will not be receiving any credit on your account. So I am asking you this question Daniel, 'Can you hear me now'"?
I burst into laughter. The way in which he said it was so stern and ridiculous that I simply could not help it. I told him; "Ok man, you win".

Ever since then I have always disliked Verizon. You would think that they would want to keep their customers, not belittle them. I thought that his usage of their motto was very rudely used out of context, yet still hilarious. I am happy that I have a sprint phone now, even though I have issues with it, at least I don't have to call Verizon ever again. I am a young guy, so Verizon has definitely lost me as a customer for life, and I hope that my story helps kick dirt on them as well. It was the worst customer service I have ever received, but at least I got a huge laugh out of it. I truly had not laughed that hard in a long time.

I believe that this story also offers a little bit of "finding the good in the bad". Even though I feel as though I had got screwed over by Verizon, at least I was able to laugh about it. And I even got this cute little story to share with my friends, for the rest of my life. They might have been able to take my money and provide me with poor service, but they were not able to ruin my day. So I ask you this, can you hear me now?

Professor Patch

"Everybody has their problems, some are just better at hiding them."

 

     One day I went into my microeconomics class at BCC. The professor was seated and writing on her notebook. As the class assembled in front of us, she continued. She did not look up and acknowledge us, nor did she say anything.

     Once we were all seated, she stood up, turned around and began writing on the blackboard. She had only written a few words before she stopped, it seemed like something was wrong. As she turned to face the class, it was apparent that she had been crying. She spoke; “I’m sorry you guys. I just finished burying my father today. I can’t teach this class. You all are excused”. She sat back down and put her face into her palms.

     The whole class was really taken back. We all slowly put our books away and began leaving. I was the last one to leave. I was trying to think of some way to comfort her or something to say, but I couldn’t come up with anything. I just walked out of the class feeling really bad for her, as she still sitting there sobbing.

     Professor Patch was about a 45 year-old, slender woman. She always seemed like a very up-tight, serious type of person, so this day was really peculiar. But could you blame her? I couldn't believe that she had even attempted to teach under those circumstances.

     At the beginning of our next class, she apologized for what had happened and everything went back to normal. As the semester went on, I think that some of the students had forgotten about it completely. But I had always felt really bad for her. She just seemed like a very reserved person, she wasn't much for humor.

     About a year later, I was with my friend at a craft store in the Vestal parkway mall. While we were shopping around, we happened to run into Professor Patch. I said “Hi Professor Patch, how are you”? She stopped and looked at me; it was easy to tell that she had no idea who I was. “I’m Daniel Reynolds, I took your microeconomics class a few semesters ago”, I said. “Oh hello, how are you”? she replied. After that it was kind of one of those awkward silences, and so I struggled to find words. “You were the greatest teacher; I really enjoyed your class! I wish that you taught more classes that I needed”, I said. She replies; “That is really nice of you to say! You know what, I do teach macroeconomics too. Are you a business major”?

I confirmed; “Yes I am a business administration major. I do need to take macroeconomics very soon, I didn’t realize that you taught that class too! I will definitely make sure that I enroll in one that you teach."

 

      We chatted for a few more minutes and then we went our separate ways. I began to think back on her microeconomics class. I didn’t enjoy that class at all. It was actually quite boring and difficult; I think I had gotten a C in it. I couldn’t understand why I had said all of that stuff to her. Maybe it was because I still felt really bad for her because of that day she was a mess. I really cannot explain it. I actually did know that she also taught macroeconomics, and I was planning on taking it with anybody else.

 

     Anyways, a few days later I was walking on campus with some friends when she seen me and stopped me. She said; “Hey Daniel! I just wanted to tell you how much it meant to me when I seen you the other day. This job can be very difficult at times, and I never get any compliments, especially like that. I had a huge smile on my face for a long time after I seen you. Thank you so much! I really look forward to having you in macroeconomics”.

 

     Wow. “What a nice lady”, I thought to myself. She really made my day with that, and I will never forget it. It was really bizarre how I was not being sincere, and here was such a sweet woman.

     The next semester, I enrolled in her macroeconomics class and I sat in the front row. It was the first and only time that I would consider myself a “teacher’s pet”. I made sure to try my hardest in that class and seem very involved in her lectures. It was another difficult class, but I ended up getting an A. I think that she might have been a little bit generous in grading my exams, but I can’t confirm this.

 

     It is amazing how far just a little bit of kindness can go. I hadn’t even intended on making her day, but it made me realize a lot of things about life. Sometimes it only takes a small, kind gesture to make a new friend or to make somebody’s day. So many people work so very hard every day without every getting a single compliment. I have had some very difficult, mundane jobs over the years. And I have realized that even when I am performing a job that I dislike, a little appreciation can go a very long way. I think that if there were just a little more kindness in the world, that it could make a huge difference.

 

The Dirty Skank

     When I was a senior in college, my two friends and I were looking for a house to live in for the year. We had waited until last minute, so we assumed that the pickings would be slim. However, we ended up getting very lucky. We found a large, 5 bedroom house right in the center of downtown Fredonia. The landlord charged on a per-person basis, and they usually rented the house to a minimum of 4 students per semester. But, because it was last minute, they agreed to give it to the 3 of us. We were ecstatic for a bunch of different reasons. For one, the house had a ton of space to have parties if we wanted to. Also, since it was in the center of downtown Fredonia, it was right next door to all of the downtown bars. During the week I was very into my school work, but on the weekends I enjoyed going out.
   
     Anyways, I was leaving the house one evening when I seen a skank through the window in the door. (Oh yeah, I should probably mention the fact that I have always referred to skunks as "skanks". I have a nickname for everybody) We always kept our garbage can just outside the front door, and he was apparently very interested in it. It was impossible for me to leave the house because he was right in the way. We had a back door, but we had never used it once. The backdoor was in the cluttered basement and it led to an extremely dark backyard. I considered this for only a moment, since I already knew there were skanks out, so I quickly ruled out that option. The backyard was a wooded area, which was probably where the skanks lived. I didn't want to run into another skank or the one on the porch if he ended up fleeing.

     It didn't matter, I wasn't going to go out the back because of some stupid skank! It was time for him to take his stank-ass someplace else. I wasn't going to lose to a skank, he was the one who was in the wrong here. It didn't matter how powerful his stench could be, there is no way he was going to beat me. I paid a lot of money to live there, he was going to be the one to leave. And it was going to be his choice whether we were going to do this the easy way or the hard way.

     I began to tap on the door to try to startle him to run off. For some reason, this was not working. And so I tried flickering the outside light and rapping on the door even harder, but it didn't work. I tried this for a good 15 minutes or so. I always thought that skanks were easy to scare away. This was not the case. I wanted him to leave, but I really didn't want him to spray. I opened up the door just a crack and hollered at him gently. "Pssst, get out skank". I tried to reason with him in a man-to-skank method. I tried to talk to him in a reasonable method. "Please Mr. Skank! I have places to go"! I closed the door and kept flickering the light and banging on the door. But he just would not leave!
    After about 20 minutes of this, I gave up. I had become infuriated and I no longer feared the wrath of his powerful spray. We were going to do this the hard way, he had asked for it. I quickly scoured our house for a weapon that I could use without getting too close to him. I finally decided upon a claw hammer. I told my roommate Kevin to open the door, and I was going to throw the hammer at him from about 3 feet away. Then, Kevin was going to quickly close the door. We had a small coat room and a double door, so we would close that one too. I knew that he would definitely spray, but I assumed that the double doors would be plenty to shield us. At this point I just didn't care, it was far more important to me that I inflict pain on the skank. I did not fear some stupid little skank, he needed to pay!

      And so we went on with our plan. Kevin opened the door just enough, and I threw the hammer at him as hard as I could! I heard a loud "Thud" coupled with a very small "yelp" the skank had let out. It was a very rare animal sound, I had no idea that skanks even made a noise. It was a direct hit, and I'm sure that it had hurt him very badly. But, I can assure you that I felt absolutely zero remorse. We quickly closed the door, and then the double door. But it didn't help one bit. The stench was so powerful that I can smell it all the way in the back of my brain, even now as I reflect back on it. In just moments we were all the way in the back of the house holding our noses. We could see a large group of people outside through a side window, they were all running and screaming while holding their noses. It is impossible to describe the strength of the stench in its rawest form, but we had to leave. It was simply overwhelming. We ended up going down into the basement and fleeing from our own house.
   
      We went to Walmart because we knew that we needed to get something for the front door. We were positive that the front door had taken a direct spray. We had no idea what to buy. All we knew for sure, was that we couldn't splash tomato juice all over the front of our house. Tomato juice was the only anti-skank repellent that we were aware of. I knew that it was all my fault, and so that it was going to be my responsibility to remedy the situation. I ended up buying a large jug of powdered bleach. When we got home it still smelled like absolute skank-ass. I splashed a bucket of water on the door and then through a large amount on powder bleach on it. I left it there for a few hours and then repeated. Our whole house stunk really bad for a few days. We ended up having to wash all of our clothes and the door smelled like skank residue for the better part of the semester.
     It sucked. But, I am willing to bet that the skank ended up having far worse repercussions from the incident. And that, my friends, is called "winning"! We never had any skank problems ever again. This leads me to believe that he probably told his friends about me. And when he did, I hope that he referred to me as "an enforcer" who does not fear their kind one bit.
    I thought about it a while later, and I still felt no remorse. That skank was sniffing around my garbage like his shit didn't stink. Wait, let me re-phrase that, he was strolling around our garbage like his shit did stink. In fact, thought that his shit stunk so bad that he was invincible. This, however, was not the case. While his shit did in deed smell far worse than a burning tire, it does not make him invincible.

I have often heard the old phrase; "Sometimes you have to crack some eggs to make an omelet". Well, I have a new quote to live by; "Sometimes you have to smell some shit to get rid of the poop".
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(I wrote this story, and then 2 days later I recorded this video)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fWPYeBUPlNk

The origin of Len

Ever since I can remember, I have always been addicted to giving people a nickname. For some reason, I don't call any of my friends by their government name. If we are close friends, chances are that I call you by a pseudonym. My closest of friends have multiple nicknames. If you were to scroll through the list of contacts on my cell phone, you would wonder what planet I lived on. That is because you would find names like "Third" and "Wizzle". All of my close family members have nick names too. My mother is "C.R." and she is married to "Ricky Martin". My brothers are "Bruce or Ban" and "Lenald or Len".

Believe me, they all have perfectly good explanations for such. Every time my mother gets an invoice or any type of professional related document in the mail, it has always addressed to "C.R.", instead of Catherine. I have no idea why and for some reason I have never bothered to ask. My brother Dave has always been "Bruce", for two reasons. First of all, it is his middle name. But the main reason is because of his similarities to Bruce Banner.

Bruce Banner is the mild-mannered gentleman who becomes The Incredible Hulk when he gets very angry. It is much like Clark Kent is the human version of Superman. Anyways, my brother Dave has always been the "Jekyl and Hyde" type, much like Brue Banner. My brother Ian has been "Len" because of a funny (Its funny now anyways) story from when we were kids.

Up until the end of 6th grade, I had a bit of a speech impediment. I used to have a difficult time  producing the "R" sound. It was very embarrassing at times, I hated it. Anyways, this one day when I was about 7 and Ian was 10, we were at church. We were in a Sunday school class and the teacher took attendance each week. On this particular week, he didn't call my name and so I got concerned. I told him that he forgot me, and he asked me for my name. I told him my name and he said "Lenalds"? And then he began scanning his attendance list. I quickly corrected him, but he again heard;"Lenalds" due to my speech problem. He told me that he didn't have me on his attendance sheet. I kept telling him that it is Dan "Reynolds", but he kept saying "Lenalds".
I was getting very frustrated. Meanwhile, my brother Ian is literally standing 1 foot away from me, laughing hysterically. I pleaded with him; "Will you please tell him my name"? I felt like I was speaking a foreign language. I can't imagine how frustrating it must have been for my immigrant friends growing up.
My brother just kept laughing and saying "Lenalds". Eventually, he told the guy my last name, but he never let me live it down. From that point on, he has always referred to me as "Lenald", or just "Len". Then, for some reason I started calling him "Lenald" too.
Anyways, when I was in 6th grade, they made me take a speech class. I hated it because they would force me to go during study hall two days per week. I never went and so they would have to call me out of study hall each time. It was really embarrassing to get called out for it, I always felt like an idiot for having to go. But looking back at it now, I'm glad that they made m go. When I see grown folks who have a speech impediment, they look silly. It I difficult to look past it with some people, they seem less intelligent for some reason.

July 4th, 2001

      Picture it. 18 year-old girls parents are out of town for the 4^th of July. She lives on the outskirts of town where the houses do not hug each other. The back yard is large and it provides the perfect setting for a huge bon-fire/multiple keg party. She invites dozens of her friends, and the stage is set.

       I remember that the first person I seen as I approached the already roaring inferno was a kid named Larry Zimmer. It was a pleasant surprise; I hadn't seen him since middle school. He used to live across the street from me in 6^th and 7^th grade. We would walk to school together and smoke cigarettes; we were just wicked cool like that.

        Although we walked to school together, we seldom hung out besides that. His parents were really strict, especially his dad. They didn't like him and his little brother out running the streets. I think I have only been inside his house with him once or twice ever, and it was only for a few minutes because his parents weren't home. He fancied himself as quite the bad-ass back then, I suppose we both did. But I remember one day he came home late and his dad went off on him verbally, right on the front porch. He made him take his earrings out immediately. Apparently, the earrings were a privilege to wear, and breaking a 7 pm curfew meant that he lost them. I watched him tear up a bit as he was removing them. The scene had certainly cost him some street-cred in my book.

       Anyways, we were both 19 now and we both had a bunch of tattoos already. So I suppose we had both continued along our road to rebellion years after the earring incident. It was so good to see him and reminisce about old times. Almost all of the rest of my usual group of friends were on hand as well. Back then, we had a very large circle of friends who would "party it up" almost every single night. There was about 30-40 of us. The majority of the parties would occur at my apartment, so this night was really special. Everybody must have been drinking very heavily that night, because I remember that we kicked the first keg in like an hour and a half. I quickly noted a direct correlation between the amount of alcohol consumed and the size of the fire.

        For the most part, everybody was outside. But there was a few stragglers going in and out of the house from time-to-time. I had been around the fire for the entire time. We were all having a “blast” indeed.

        It was about 3 hours into this epic party when I was looking for Justin Smallze. Somebody told me that they had seen him inside the house.

         Now, the bon-fire was in the back yard, about a hundred yards from the house. So, I refilled my beer cup and began walking towards it. As soon as I got to the door and was about to walk inside the house, absolute chaos erupted.

         All of a sudden I hear a crazy, screaming voice coming from behind me. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhh Danny help me please I’m fucking dying”! 

         I turn around and see Larry Zimmer jumping and screaming in an absolute frenzy. “What dude!? What’s wrong?!” I ask. Just then he does a 180 while still jumping and screaming his head off in pain. I notice that he has almost no skin on his back at all. “Holy fucking shit man! What the fuck?!”, I yelped. It looked like he must have somehow fallen onto the fire. “Ahhhhhhhhh Please fucking help me Danny, please man” he screams!

       My heart started pounding like a piston; I had absolutely no idea what to do. “Pleaseeeeeee call my mom”, he hollers out desperately. “What do I do Danny”?! It was at this moment that I realized that if I didn't do something quick, he was going to be in real trouble. I don’t remember seeing anybody else from this moment on, only chaos.

      I said; “Ok, come on”, and we raced into the house. “Lay down on your stomach”, I hollered at him. He quickly fell to the floor punching and kicking in agony and screaming; “Please call my mommy and daddy, don’t let me die Danny please!” I grabbed a blanket off a chair in the living room and put it under cold water. I didn't know if this was the right thing to do or not, it was simply instinctual. In fact, I still don't know if it was a good idea or not. But anyways, he was flopping, kicking, and screaming in pure agony; “Call my mom please!”

        Now you have to understand the level of desperation in his voice, it was bone chilling. I didn't see how she was going to help him, but he kept screaming for me to do it. So I picked up the phone and dialed the number he told me and handed him the phone. I took the blanket soaked in cold water and I laid it over his skinless back. His mom must have answered because he screamed “Mommy, I’m fucking dying I got burned to death ahhhhhhhhhhhh”! The tone of his voice was simply terror and pain in its rawest form. And then he hangs up the phone. Can you imagine waking up at 2am to that call from your child?

        I obviously knew that she couldn't save him. That's when I realized that I was the only one who could save him. I picked him up with the blanket around him and rushed him out to my car. I sped off like we had just robbed a bank. Unfortunately we were about a 20 minute drive from the hospital. However, there was no driving laws that existed, all bets were off. If I had crashed on the way there I didn't give a shit. Because, I knew that if I didn't get him to the hospital right away he was definitely going to die. I would estimate that I cut that 20 minute drive to about 6 minutes, driving like a mad man. It was the scariest and most intense 6 minutes of my life.

         First of all, I had been drinking heavily for hours. Secondly, all I heard were the same desperate shrieks of a man in absolute agony. “Ahhhhhhhhhhh, I don’t wanna fuckking die Danny please Danny please! Don’t let me die Danny!" He was pleading with me for his life as if I were god. "I just want my mommy and Daddy pleaseeeeeeee! Please Danny just get me my mommy and daddy!” Street cred was a non factor in this situation I assure you. The toughest man in the world would have been screaming for his mommy also. The pain that he was enduring had to be hell on earth. He never stopped screaming so I just drove as fast as I possibly could. Once I hit Airport rd. I had the gas pedal floored. I was going 90mph. 

         Once I got into town I drove straight through red lights and stop signs. I drove the way you would drive in a video game while being chased by the cops. While I was speeding down North Arch St. in J.C., I seen a car ahead performing a K-turn. However, I couldn't slow down in time. So I cut over a drive way and onto the sidewalk. I drove through a couple front yards before going back over the curb and onto the road. All the while it continued to get worse and worse; “I don’t wanna die! Noooooooooo please Danny! I just want my mommy and Daddy! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh, it fuckking killsssssssssssssssss pleaseeeeeee. Don't let me die!”.

       When we finally swung into the round-a-bout out front of Wilson Hospitals emergency entrance, I finally came to a skidding halt. He got out and ran into the ER while I followed behind. He ran right past all the triage and registration desks and straight into the patient areas. He was still screaming at the top of his lungs and still wrapped in the blanket. I seen a bunch of nurses and security guards run over to him. He removed the blanket and I seen the shock in the nurses face when they seen it.

        It was at this very moment that I realized my own dilemma. My car was still running right outside the ER and I had been drinking heavily. The melee had stunned me sober, but I'm sure it wouldn't have mattered. The police would definitely be involved very soon. (In the possible absence of any statute of limitations on a DWI charge, this had all only occurred on an alleged basis) I needed to get my car the hell out of there. Besides, I realized that my help was no longer needed.

         So I quickly ran back to my car, and I drove like a civilian to my house only a few blocks away. I seen police cars flying past me, certainly en route to the ER. Then, I parked my car and ran back over to the hospital. As soon as I got back to the emergency room entrance, a van came flying in. It was filled with a bunch of my friends from the party. For some reason, there was a whole bunch of people who had been burned! They all jumped out of the van and went screaming into the same emergency room, it was pure mayhem. I had assumed that Larry had fallen into the fire somehow, probably horsing around. But considering the fact that all these other burn victims had arrived, I had no idea what the hell could have caused the catastrophe.

        The emergency room was overwhelmed and the staff and security were in a frenzy. We were fighting with them because they were not helping my friends at all. I think there were 6-7 people who had large patches of third-degree burns. However, the staff made some of them wait in the waiting room for almost 30 minutes while their skin was literally burning off. They said that they were full right now and that they had to wait. I began to tear up a bit watching my friends shake in pain while nothing was being done to help them.

         Half of them were treated and released from the hospital the next day. However, Larry, (Who had been by far the most critically wounded) and two others were ultimately shipped to a special burn unit in Syracuse, NY. They were kept there in special contamination-free rooms for months. The risk of infection resulting from these type of injuries is especially high. Therefore, the treatments that they required were extensive.

        We later discovered that one of the drunken teenagers had thrown a can of WD-40 into the bon-fire. It had eventually heated up until it burst. Its lava-like contents had exploded and landed directly on the skin of everyone nearby.

          Larry had to have multiple skin graphs and his tattoos were burned off of his body. I remember going to visit them one time and they had burn wounds bubbled up all over their bodies. Every few days one of these giant puss filled bubbles on their skin would burst. We had to wear special anti-contamination suits just to be allowed to go into their rooms.

         The sight of them alone was very difficult to endure. I cannot begin to imagine the hellish pain they must have endured. Their roads to recovery were all very long and painful. But luckily, they eventually escaped the ordeal with only scars.

        Eventually, the injured teenagers all sued the home owners insurance to pay for medical expenses and pain and suffering. However, for some reason, none of them would ever expose exactly how much money they received. It is rumored that Larry had received around $150,000, and that he blew it all, but I cannot confirm this. He has still never thanked me for what I did for him. And when his parents had arrived at the hospital that night, they were so rude to me.

          

         In case anyone has ever wondered, burnt human flesh smells like toast. The kind you get when you use bread that is too thick for the slot, and so it touches against the heating element as it cooks. Even though it was summer time and I always kept all my windows down, my car smelled like that for 2 months. 

        Drunken teenagers will always exist, and they will always do stupid things. Luckily, my friends and I were fortunate enough to walk away without being blinded or killed. There are a lot of kids who do not receive a second chance. Teenagers will always throw caution to the wind, I just hope they are not stupid enough to throw WD-40 into a fire.

Blueberry Part 4 of 4

       I had left that pub so quickly that I almost left my friend Rob behind. Rob was visiting me from Florida, so I couldn't just abandon him in Fredonia. I promise that I wasn't even buzzed yet, but if Rob didn't come chasing after me I would have totally forgot about him. "Dude, where are you going"? I told him that I'd explain everything once we were on the freeway. My mind was going complete ape shit.

         I started recollecting on all of these fond memories of my old pal Blueberry. So many countless nights we spent on the phone together all those years ago. It had been over 8 years since I first chatted with Blueberry, but I still remembered everything so vividly. We used to listen to the radio together when we were bored, our local stations were always playing the same set of new songs on a regular basis. She was a huge fan of the backstreet boys and had a huge crush on Nick Carter. She talked about him all the time back then. She was also a huge fan of the Goo Goo Dolls. "Iris" was a really popular song back then and we both loved it. And I know it might sound corny, but that was "our" song. To this day I can still remember listening to it on the phone with her, over and over.

        Anyways, as soon as we hit the freeway I began to give Rob a brief synopsis of Blueberry and our relationship. I didn't go into much detail, I just told him that she text me and said she was out with some friends in Buffalo. He thought I was crazy. Shit, so did I.
        A few minutes later I received another text from Blueberry. She said that her and her friends were out drinking at the bar of the Ramada Inn. I had Rob google search for the "Ramada Inn of Buffalo" on his phone in order to get directions. But again, my mind began to drift.
     
        I thought about the time that I had went to her house, and watching "Dirty Dancing". I was just about to tell Rob about the whole story when something insane happened. Now, you wouldn't believe it but at that very moment I heard something very familiar in the air. I turned up my radio, and the song "Iris" was playing. Goosebumps quickly spread all over my body, but with a tingling sensation that is difficult to explain. I cranked that shit up as loud as it could go. I had a brand new car and the factory speakers were surprisingly clear. It was the first time that I had actually flexed them out.
         I didn't explain the coincidence to Rob however, he would have definitely called me a "crazy idiot", or made fun of me. I later found out that the Goo Goo Dolls are actually from Buffalo, which was oddly enough where we were headed.
   
         Anyways, about an hour later I received another text; "Where are you"? It was a reasonable question, after all, I'm sure she assumed I was in Buffalo to begin with. I didn't tell her that I was out of town and racing back just to see her. I didn't want to seem like a crazy idiot, even though I might have been one. Rob said that we should be there in 10 minutes according to his directions. And so I text her back; "Be there in 10".
         When we arrived at the Ramada I was still in control of my emotions and super excited! But when we walked in, I didn't see any bar. I asked the woman at the counter and she said that they didn't have a bar. After some more questioning, we learned that it was the Ramada on the complete other side of the city that had a bar. I was really flustered at this point. Here I was, all ready for the moment of truth, and it was all for not. Well, not yet anyways. We got directions to the other Ramada and set back out on our journey.
        Blueberry kept texting me; "I thought you were coming :(". I told her that we had gotten lost but that we would be there shortly. I didn't get any reply back.
       
          When we finally arrived at the correct Ramada, it had been almost 2 and a half hrs since I received her initial text when I was in Fredonia. We quickly got out of the car and headed towards the main entrance. On our way in we seen a group of girls walking through the parking lot. One of them looked like Blueberry! "Hey", I exclaimed. The one who looked like Blueberry made a rude gesture back towards me and they kept walking. "That couldn't have been her", I said to Rob. "She would never have done that".
         We walked into the bar and it looked almost completely empty. I pulled out my phone and text the word "here". We did a quick lap around the bar just to make sure and then hustled back outside. The girls we had seen were gone too. I was fucking heartbroken. Here we were, making this epic trek in the wee hours and it had all went awry!

            Just as we were heading back towards my car, an SUV pulled up aside us. And there, in the front passenger seat with the window rolled down, sat Blueberry. "Hey", she said. I took a deep breath and swallowed, "Hi".
             Suddenly the door swung open, she hopped out, ran and jumped into my arms. It was the greatest moment of my life. I promise you, that in that moment, I was invincible. It felt like I could have flown straight up into the sky like superman holding Lois Lane. If I live to be 1,000 years old, nothing could ever compare to that moment in time.

            Anyways, after that she explained that they had driven from Syracuse earlier and been out for a while already. They were leaving and going to sleep at a friends house. But, she said that they were going out to a club tomorrow night and for us to meet them there. We agreed and said our good-byes.
          When I got back into the car with Rob, I remember him being pissed off. "We just drove all over the place for fucking nothing?" Its funny how something can seem like nothing to one person, but mean everything to somebody else.

          The next day, Blueberry was texting me off the hook. She was making sure that we were going to meet up later at the club. I assured her that we would be there with bells on.
          When we arrived at the club that night, the very first person I seen was Blueberry. She was with a friend outside of the club chatting with a bouncer. We went into the club and had some drinks. It was so loud and crowded in there that it took 15 minutes to order a drink, so we got a few. Rob and I separated from them for a bit and scoped out the club. Again, a lot of the time I spent with her that night is a blur. Plus, I was not trying to smother her, even with the drinks were flowing. It was very surreal to be with her. All I wanted was to get a chance to talk to her alone, if even for a minute. The music was so loud that all communication equated to shouting in her ear. At one point, she took me by the hand to go and find her friend. It was like touching an angel. I didn't want her to ever let go.
             We had a really fun time that night, drinking and just bullshitting. About 3 hours later when her and her friends got ready to go, I was really sad. When we said our "Goodbyes", it felt like I would never see her again.

          I never seen her again.

         Our conversations increased for a while after that night, but then we again faded away into the abyss which is our lives. Her dad got diagnosed with ALS a few years later, and eventually passed away. I know how close she was with him. It really hurt me deeply when she told me about it. I really wish I could have been there for her. I wanted to so bad. But, she had a boyfriend. Girls like Blueberry always have a boyfriend. The prime cuts of beef never stay on the shelves for too long. She got married a few years ago.
       

          We still chat here and there. Sometimes she seems really happy, but most of the time she seems sad. She says that whenever I contact her out of the blue, it is somehow always when she is having a bad day and needs a good friend to chat with. She says that I must have some magical ability to sense when she is struggling. But honestly, I don't believe any of that. I think she might be a bit of a drama queen, but a queen nonetheless.


           I have always been very discreet with discussing my relationship with Blueberry. In fact, only a couple of my close friends even know she exists. It took me quite a while to realize why I never wanted to tell my friends about her. For a long time I thought it was because I was ashamed of the method in which we met. But eventually, I realized that the reason I never really told anybody about her was because it always makes me sad. I'm not sad because she got married, I'm sad that she never
got to know the real me.

       My reason for telling this story is the same reason I have for telling all of my stories. For one, my friends have always been really intrigued by my stories, and especially my meticulous recollection of details. But my main purpose, is that I am hoping this outlet will provide a sense of comfort.
       People often carry their pasts around with them like luggage. We often allow it to influence our present and our future. I will not allow it to. I am hoping that my 'release' of my stories will allow me to finally put it all behind me. It took me such a long time to realize the truth. It has never been Blueberry whom I have been in love with, it was always the fantasy of her. And I spent a large chunk of my life feeling like I wasn't good enough for the girl of my dreams, when in fact, she never even was.
        The girl of my dreams is one who truly believes that I am the best thing going. And anybody who settles for anything less than that, is an absolute fool.

         Sometimes it seems like she is a ghost who is still alive, or just some imaginary character created by the rampant mind of a very imaginative kid. After all, I have only actually been with her twice. And yet, for some reason it seems like that is impossible.
          So as I close this chapter in my life, I do so in both the literal and the figurative sense. I once read that blueberries are supposed to be very healthy for your brain. But all they have ever done for mine is drive it crazy.

Stan the Man

It was the summer of 2001 when I had become addicted to the radio station Star 105.7. Every weekday, from 6am-7pm, that radio went everywhere with me. It wasn't because I enjoyed listening to the same 10 songs they played all day long, nor was it because I enjoyed the hours and hours of advertisements. It was because of an ongoing contest that they had been running for over a month.

The contest entailed a grand prize of $2000 and another $3000 in gift certificates. The rules of the contest were simple. "Every weekday between 6am and 7pm, listen for your cue to call in. All you have to do, is be the 7th caller, and identify the 6 celebrity voices".

You see, they had made up an audio file that contained 6 celebrity voices. Each voice would say a phrase and then go onto the next voice, and so forth. I had heard these audio clips a hundred times over the past month. Each time that they gave the "cue to call", the 7th caller would take a shot at identifying all 6 voices to win the grand prize. Then, the disc jockey would tell the caller how many, if any, they had answered correctly. However, they never revealed which answers were correct or incorrect, only the amount that they guessed correctly. This fact made the challenge far more difficult, which is why the contest went on for so long. I think they gave the "cue to call" about 3-4 times a day. Then, the contestant who was the 7th caller, they would take their stab at the $5000 in total prizes.

Truthfully, I couldn't identify even one single voice. However, I wrote down everybody's guesses and how many they had gotten right. After a few weeks of meticulously doing so, I had eventually narrowed down the correct sequence through the process of elimination. Therefore, every time that they play the "cue to call", my heart would race. I would dial the radio station and get a busy signal, hit reset and redial. Over and over this went on for weeks. I think one time it rang and I was 3rd caller, but that was as close as I had come.

Regardless, I continued my relentless pursuit. It had gotten to the point where I was at home all day with the cordless phone in hand and the radio at full volume. It had gotten to the point that every contestant was getting 5 out of 6 correct, and I always knew what error they had made and I was very relieved.

Anyways, it was a Friday evening and there was going to be only 1 more "cue to call" for the week. It was about 5pm or so, therefore it could happen anytime within the next 2 hours. My brother Dave showed up at the house, he was living away at college, but he had come home for the weekend. He wanted to go out for dinner, but I explained him the situation and so we waited.

Around 6:15 they played the "cue to call" and I was rapidly taping away at the phone. My brother was sitting on the love seat looking at me with a silly grin. Suddenly, the unthinkable happened...I heard a ringing noise. "Oh my god dude, its ringing", I exclaimed!
"Yea right", he said.
My heart was pounding out of my chest. Finally the phone was answered.

Jockey: "Hey, who's this?!"

Me: "Dan", I said it quickly trying to catch my breath.

Jockey: "Stan the man! Well Stan guess what?! You're caller number 7! Where are you calling from tonight Stan?"

Me: "Johnson City. Its Dan", I panicky remarked.

Jockey: "Oh I'm sorry, Dannnnnn the man!" he responded sarcastically. "You are caller number 7 Dan! That means that you have the chance to win over $5000 in cash and prizes. Including....." (He went on and on about the prizes, giving the businesses their usual on-air exposure)

I just wanted him to shut up so I could read off my list. I was so flustered and fidgety.

Jockey: "Have you been listening Dan? And do you think you have all 6 celebrity voices!?"

Me: "Yessir! I'm positive"

Jockey: "Ok Dan, whenever you're ready!"

I picked up my list and read off the names as fast as I could. I cant remember who they were, I remember one was Lucy Ball and another was Dorothy Hamill, but that's it. As soon as I finished reading the names I grabbed my hair with my other hand. I had done it!

Jockey: "Dan the man", his voice had gotten calm

Me: "Yeah"

Jockey: "Are you sitting down", he said.

Me: "Yeah", I said, while jumping in the air. My brother was looking at me in disbelief.

Jockey: "YOU GOTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT 5 right. I'm sorry but you needed to get all 6"

Me: "Ughhh" I felt all the life slip out of my body. I expected him to say he was just kidding.

Jockey: "Poor guy. I could hear the pain in his voice"

           I was fucking shocked, there was no possible way my calculations were incorrect! I had went over them and over them. I had pages and pages of wrong guesses, and how many were correct. There was just NO possible way that I didn't have them all right!
           They put me on hold and asked for my full name so I could get some consolation prize of donuts and coffee bullshit. But I just hung up the phone.
           My brother started laughing hysterically, he thought it was the funniest shit in the world. Then, he grabbed a cassette tape and put it in the radio and pressed record. A few minutes later they played my segment on air.
           He kept that tape in his car for 4 goddamn years. And every time I would get in his car he would play it and laugh. Naturally, I also gained the nickname; "Stan the Man". What a dick.

Blueberry Part 3 of 4

While we were first entering her house, my eyes met hers for a spilt second, it was really awkward. She also seemed really nervous. Needless to say, it was not the joyous reception that my heart had envisioned.
Anyways, we introduced ourselves and luckily, she had a friend with her also. I think it would have been way more awkward if it were just me, her, and Dom.

Anyways, we all went into her bedroom and she closed the door. It made me feel a little more relaxed that I didn't have to meet the whole family. Her dad poked his head in and said; "Hello" once or twice, but that was about it.
For the next few hours we just bullshitted like teenagers do. However, I could tell that something was off. The whole situation was obviously extremely awkward, finally meeting somebody whom you have been talking to so often for 3 years.
Also, her appearance was even more angelic than it was in her photos. The way her dark eye brows shadowed her caramel colored eyes, it was so intimidating.
Looking into her eyes was like looking into the eyes of Medusa. It made me feel stone-like and inferior, so I was trying to avoid eye contact. I felt  like a bashful kindergartner and those eyes just shrank me into a shell. I felt like she was disappointed by my appearance and it crushed me inside. I tried my hardest to play it off, but I just wanted to get the hell out of there.
The next few hours are a bit of a blur. I remember that the tension had eventually cooled off a bit and we had some funny conversations. At one point, we watched "Dirty Dancing" all the way through. But for being a person with such a stellar memory and in such a critical position, I recall little else about our visit.
I was so relieved when we left. My mind was spinning a million miles an hour. I couldn't wait to get home and talk to the real Blueberry again. I wanted to find out what she really thought of me, even though I feared the worst.

The drive home would prove to be even crazier than the rest of the day. The highway on 81S was covered in snow and it just kept getting worse and worse. It got to the point where I couldn't see anything more than 5 feet in front of me. I was only 17, so I was a very inexperienced driver anyways, especially in such conditions.
Perhaps it was a culmination of the day which had me flustered, but the weather had me very tense. There were wrecked vehicles every few miles. It also didn't help that my car was ill equipped for this type of weather. As the weather got worse and worse, Dom and I began to really worry. We seen a sign that said "Icy Pavement zone", and we both let out a sarcastic; "great". Moments later, I lost complete control of the car.

I was already very tense and gripping the steering wheel very tightly. So as soon as I began to slide, I did the worst thing I could possibly do, I slammed on the brakes. We immediately did a 180 and were sliding backwards in a straight line at 40 mph. It seemed like we were sliding forever. The whole time we were just holding on and awaiting an impact. But it never came. I have no idea how we didn't slide off the road, it almost defied the laws of physics. We just continued to slide perfectly backwards for at least 300-400 yards. Then, Just as he were about to come to a complete stop, Dom said; "Holy shit man, I think were good."
However, the moment before we finally came to a complete stop, we slid off the road and into a ditch.

I opened the door and the falling snow covered me quickly. It was before the time of cell phones, so we had no idea what to do. As we stepped out of the car, we saw flashing lights about 200 yards ahead. So, without any other options, we got out of the car and ran towards them. I was very worried for Dom because he breaks out into hives when his skin gets really cold.  I suggested that he wait in the car, but he wasn't having any of that.
When we got to the flashing lights we were relieved to find that it was a cop who was just sitting there with his lights on. He was using his flashers as assistance for a toe truck that was pulling a semi out of a ditch. We got into the cops car and out of the elements. It felt amazing to be back in the warmth, but we knew that we were still in a bad situation. We explained our predicament to the officer and he asked for my ID. He quickly noticed that I was under 18 and it was past 9pm. He issued me a ticket for driving past 9pm with only a junior license. I told him that we would have been home long ago if it weren't for the weather, but he didn't care. He also told us that we would have to have our parents come pick us up since I was driving illegally, therefore we were his responsibility.

Suddenly, a car slid off the road and into the driver side of the police car we were in. Then, the car that had hit us took off. The cop immediately ordered us out of his car. The cop tried to pursue the hit and run car but his vehicle was immobilized. Apparently, cop cars have some sort of built in mechanism that prevents their cars from moving following a wreck.
The toe truck driver and the cop were frantically trying to pull the back bumper of the cop car free so he could pursue the driver. The snow was continuing to fall and it was difficult to see. They were having trouble and asked or our help. The 4 of us kept pulling the bumper and sliding, it was no use.
The cop ordered us back into the car and called for back-up. He was on his radio explaining the hit-and-run. He was giving a description of the car that had  hit us, our location, and the direction in which they were traveling.
Anyways, we sat in the backseat for another 20 minutes or so until back-up arrived. The back-up was apparently 'superior officers', and they immediately ordered us into their car. These cops were way more chill than the other guy was. Then asked us a series of questions about how the first officer responded to the incident.
Next, we explained them our predicament and they called us a tow truck. He also tore up the ticket that the previous cop had issued and told me he would have it dropped. Finally, they brought us back to my car with the toe truck driver and allowed us to drive home.
On any other day of my life this would have been a traumatic experience, but all I was thinking about during the whole ordeal was Blueberry.


The next day I called Blueberry and told her all about our crazy adventure on the way home. But it was easy to tell that something was wrong. I don't know if she thought I was ugly, weird, or what it was for sure. However, from that day forward, our relationship changed drastically. We began to chat less and less.
Before I knew it she was dating somebody, and then somebody else. I was also dating somebody, and then somebody else, so we eventually began to grow apart. Our calls became less and less frequent. And when we did chat, it was brief and just never the same. I never called the party line again.

A short time later, AOL became very popular and we would chat on there sometimes. But things were never the same. We always had a boyfriend/girlfriend and we just grew further and further apart. I would be lying if I said that it didn't break my heart. As I got older, I realized that close friends fade away often. Its strange how it happens to people. However, I could never shake the feelings I had for her. She is the only friend I have ever had that ever really understood me.
Sometimes I would miss her and send her an email on AOL, reminiscing about our conversations. Usually I would get a short, generic response back, or sometimes none at all. I realized that I had fallen on her list of priorities, and I accepted it. I moved on, and for the next 6 years, we probably chatted 3-4 times total. I wish that I could tell you that was the end of the story, I really do!

But the heart wants what the heart wants.

I graduated from college in 2005 and moved to Buffalo with a friend of mine. By this time, Blueberry and I were simply old friends. We would text back and forth every now and then to see how the other was doing, but that was it. I understood where our relationship stood and I had to just accept it and move on. And so I did.

By this time I had really matured and became an adult. I became career oriented and was really beginning to understand what I wanted out of life. I would set goals for myself and make sure to achieve them, no matter what. I had assumed this; "I can do all things" type of identity. My professional like was striving also. I was working as a Financial Advisor for Key Bank. All of the people who I worked with were terrific. They were all very polite, funny, and just a pure joy to be around. I have worked for a ton of employers, and every one of them had a number of pure assholes. I have no idea how Key Bank went about their recruitment process, but they really had their act together. I loved going into work and I was making a ton of money. If I could go back in time, I would never have left that job in a years, but that is another story entirely. Anyways, it is still the only brief time in my life that I can say that I was ever truly content with myself. I really felt like it was time for me to find a nice girl to settle down with. This was not going to be difficult to find. Buffalo was filled with beautiful, intelligent women. And for some reason, it seemed like they were flocking to me left and right. I had dated (And I don't mean had sex with) a bunch of beautiful women who had everything going for them, and it seemed like they would instantly fall for me. However, I would eventually lose interest and stop returning their calls/texts. I could never figure out why until I got much older and more mature, but I will get to that.

Anyways, this one Friday evening in February of 2006, I was in Fredonia for the night partying with some old college friends. Fredonia is about an hour drive from where I lived in Buffalo. I hadn't seen my friends since I graduated, so I decided to drive out for the night. I met them at our familiar pub and we embraced a bit and ordered some drinks.
Suddenly, I got an unexpected text from Blueberry; "Hey, I'm in Buffalo for my birthday weekend. What are you doing"?

This text made my stomach drop. We hadn't chatted at all for quite a while, so it reallly caught me off guard. It felt like I was having a moment of reckoning, my mind began to race at an alarming rate. I could easily have just ignored the text and continued to hang out with my friends. After all, we were having a great time. Or, I could have simply texted her back something like; "Sorry, I'm out of town. Maybe next time"? It would have been a completely reasonable thing to do. However, I have never really been all that reasonable.

I immediately stood up and said; "I gotta go guys". They looked dumbfounded by the remark, and rightly so. I went over to the bar and bought my friends a few more pictures of beer and set them at our table. "Why do you gotta go", one of them asked. I simply responded; "I gotta go see about a girl". (Thanks Robin Williams) I opened my phone back up and typed; "Where are you at? I'm on my way"! And with that, I was out of that pub and jogging towards my car.