Story #803
Today was exceptionally memorable. In one way, I lived through what was, for me, an ordinary experience turned deadly extraordinary. For two, the next time I find myself in a dire situation, I will be sure to speak the language.
So here it is. This weekend was muddy because of the spring-like weather. Then yesterday, it snowed, and the trek into Boston was salt, sand and generally dirty if you are a car. Last night, I parked me Saturn in the garage and was home before the wife. When SHE came home, she had to go around my car and, oops, rub up against all the road dirt. Displeased, she told me that the next day (today) would be a good day to get me car washed before I came home. So this I did. The only time I had was at lunchtime, and if I had known what I know now, I'd never have done the deed.
One of my associates was sponsoring a young man from Somalia. A nice young man, this, getting used to wearing a tie and suit for the first time and chafing a little at the tie, but proud to have mastered the hang of it, as it were. He was from a small village and had never seen a car (a jeep, yes), had never ridden in one, nor had he been on a plane, or seen a big city like Boston until very recently. As you can imagine, all this culture shock takes some getting used to. His English be coming along at a rapid pace, as he is a bright young man. He is in a programme to better himself and learn about American customs, country, and language. He is seeking to acquire skills so that he can return to Somalia and earn a good living with the knowledge he gains.
Now Martin, as he calls himself, is still finding honking horns, blaring sirens, multitudes of people hurrying along, and the city of Boston a wee bit daunting, but he's taking it in stride and learning. I rather like him, he's a tall drink of water like myself, and skinny like me, and he has exhibited a sense of humour much like. . ME! It was natural that we struck up a working friendship. He was in my department learning what we do there, and I was his mentor for the week. It started off great until today. Today was a new learning experience for both of us.
At lunch, I told him I would be going out. If he'd like to come along, I'll treat him to lunch, and if he doesn't mind, I'll stop to get me car washed. He said he would like the adventure, and so off we went.
I took him to a pub that has the best sandwiches in our area. He tried an Irish Reuben, which consisted of two thick slices of corned beef (boiled in Guinness), Thousand Island dressing, sauerkraut (dyed green), and Swiss cheese on marbled Irish rye bread. He loved it and had two! He downed both with two glasses of Guinness (I said I wouldn't tell about the alcohol), so we two were happy fellows when we left.
I pulled into a car wash on the way back to the office. Now, here is where it all turned pear-shaped. I paid the money and pulled up to the wash door. I told Martin to make sure all the windows on his side were closed. He did and asked me if we would get out and wash the car. That should have been a hint, but stupid me gave it no thought and told him no, the machines do the cleaning. He looked puzzled as I pulled up, and the men came out with the power hoses to spray the tyres, to which he said, "Oh, I see." But he didn't really, and neither did I.
I was instructed to put the motor gear in neutral and remove me foot from the brake. As the car started forward into the dark, misty tunnel, Martin asked me how the car was driving itself. Before I could answer, the jets opened a rainbow of soap, blocking out the windows with a loud splat, and poor Martin was stunned to speechlessness.
Martin pointed nervously and moved about in his seat in a hyper-nervous fashion. Before I could say a word, the giant brushes came out the sides and top (the moon roof gave a great view of one of them pounding the car top), and the noise was so loud even if I shouted, I would not be heard or understood, and that's exactly what happened.
Poor Martin was in fear for his life and was yelling in Somali (which I did not understand a word of). He was tearing at the seatbelt, wildly gesturing and trying to open the door. I caught him before he could. We'd be drowned, but he began to fight me off like he didn't know who I was. He was shouting, "Caawinta, caawinta!' which I later learned meant help, help!
We made it through the brushes to the wax. Oh my God, the wax came down in bright, colourful streaks, and his eyes got huge. He was waving his hands at it on the windscreen as if he could magically make it go away.
The drying strips came banging into the windows next, and he started screaming.
Just as he got into full panic mode, a sudden rumbling sound erupted, the heat jets!
I thought his eyes would pop out of his head as he felt the vibration and looked at me aghast. I kept trying to tell him it was ok and fend off his flailing arms at the same time.
I finally got him settled (I am not sure how exactly) when the jets started to wind down, and in front of us was this:
The poor guy thought the car would smash through the door. He looked back and saw through the cleaning strips, brushes, assorted sprays, and the HEADLIGHTS of another car right behind us. We were going to be crushed, and that was that!
As we slowly inched up, heat jets vibrating, the door to escape didn't open. I was still trying to manhandle Martin to keep him settled. I had child-locked the doors and windows so he couldn't get out, and when I let go of him, he went for the handle and looked at me like he couldn't believe I'd forcefully locked him into his own death. It was all I could think to do, so he wouldn't jump out into the middle of hot wax, hot water and hot jets! It would also keep me car from filling up with the same and possibly asphyxiating me!
As we got closer, miraculously, the door began to rise, and thank the powers of the universe, we were out and free of all the sound, fury, and panic.
I didn't know what a car wash would be like for someone who had never been in one. The poor man was tear-streaked down his face, and sweat soaked through his new suit, as well as the tie, which was frayed and askew, having been pulled at to loosen it from choking him in his extreme anxiety. I felt terrible about this, I did. I offered to buy him a new tie, have his suit cleaned and told him to keep the box of tissues Tonya always keeps in our cars for the kid's snotty noses.
By the time the experience wore off, we were three blocks from the office parking garage. Martin actually laughed, albeit nervously, but laughed all the same, telling me it was an experience he'd not soon forget. Now that he understood what it was and that it was safe and not going to kill him, he'd like to try another car wash someday, but not soon.
When we returned to the floor where me department was, everyone turned around to look at a very dishevelled Martin, his tear-stained suit rumpled and damp from sweat; even his dark mahogany skin was three shades lighter. The poor man's eyes were still bugging from his head, and he looked like a deer caught in headlights. I looked no better. I was a rumbled mess from his fending me off from jumping out of the car. I explained me stupidity to everyone and left early for home just to manage my own stress of the moment.
Of course, me Mam being the only one home, I told her the sordid tale. And what did she do? She laughed so hard her sides ached. I thought I'd get some commiseration from her, but no, it was funny to her. I dunno, but I had me a straight-up Jameson to dull the memory, which, as you can read, is still with me and probably will be until Martin moves onto another area than mine.
SIGH!
Gabe
Copyright © 2016 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Today was exceptionally memorable. In one way, I lived through what was, for me, an ordinary experience turned deadly extraordinary. For two, the next time I find myself in a dire situation, I will be sure to speak the language.
So here it is. This weekend was muddy because of the spring-like weather. Then yesterday, it snowed, and the trek into Boston was salt, sand and generally dirty if you are a car. Last night, I parked me Saturn in the garage and was home before the wife. When SHE came home, she had to go around my car and, oops, rub up against all the road dirt. Displeased, she told me that the next day (today) would be a good day to get me car washed before I came home. So this I did. The only time I had was at lunchtime, and if I had known what I know now, I'd never have done the deed.
One of my associates was sponsoring a young man from Somalia. A nice young man, this, getting used to wearing a tie and suit for the first time and chafing a little at the tie, but proud to have mastered the hang of it, as it were. He was from a small village and had never seen a car (a jeep, yes), had never ridden in one, nor had he been on a plane, or seen a big city like Boston until very recently. As you can imagine, all this culture shock takes some getting used to. His English be coming along at a rapid pace, as he is a bright young man. He is in a programme to better himself and learn about American customs, country, and language. He is seeking to acquire skills so that he can return to Somalia and earn a good living with the knowledge he gains.
Now Martin, as he calls himself, is still finding honking horns, blaring sirens, multitudes of people hurrying along, and the city of Boston a wee bit daunting, but he's taking it in stride and learning. I rather like him, he's a tall drink of water like myself, and skinny like me, and he has exhibited a sense of humour much like. . ME! It was natural that we struck up a working friendship. He was in my department learning what we do there, and I was his mentor for the week. It started off great until today. Today was a new learning experience for both of us.
At lunch, I told him I would be going out. If he'd like to come along, I'll treat him to lunch, and if he doesn't mind, I'll stop to get me car washed. He said he would like the adventure, and so off we went.
I took him to a pub that has the best sandwiches in our area. He tried an Irish Reuben, which consisted of two thick slices of corned beef (boiled in Guinness), Thousand Island dressing, sauerkraut (dyed green), and Swiss cheese on marbled Irish rye bread. He loved it and had two! He downed both with two glasses of Guinness (I said I wouldn't tell about the alcohol), so we two were happy fellows when we left.
I pulled into a car wash on the way back to the office. Now, here is where it all turned pear-shaped. I paid the money and pulled up to the wash door. I told Martin to make sure all the windows on his side were closed. He did and asked me if we would get out and wash the car. That should have been a hint, but stupid me gave it no thought and told him no, the machines do the cleaning. He looked puzzled as I pulled up, and the men came out with the power hoses to spray the tyres, to which he said, "Oh, I see." But he didn't really, and neither did I.
I was instructed to put the motor gear in neutral and remove me foot from the brake. As the car started forward into the dark, misty tunnel, Martin asked me how the car was driving itself. Before I could answer, the jets opened a rainbow of soap, blocking out the windows with a loud splat, and poor Martin was stunned to speechlessness.
 |
| The Soap makes for a claustrophobic experience |
Martin pointed nervously and moved about in his seat in a hyper-nervous fashion. Before I could say a word, the giant brushes came out the sides and top (the moon roof gave a great view of one of them pounding the car top), and the noise was so loud even if I shouted, I would not be heard or understood, and that's exactly what happened.
 |
| As the soap was being moved around, the sound was deafening! |
Poor Martin was in fear for his life and was yelling in Somali (which I did not understand a word of). He was tearing at the seatbelt, wildly gesturing and trying to open the door. I caught him before he could. We'd be drowned, but he began to fight me off like he didn't know who I was. He was shouting, "Caawinta, caawinta!' which I later learned meant help, help!
We made it through the brushes to the wax. Oh my God, the wax came down in bright, colourful streaks, and his eyes got huge. He was waving his hands at it on the windscreen as if he could magically make it go away.
 |
| Wax coming |
 |
| WAX ON |
The drying strips came banging into the windows next, and he started screaming.
 |
| The drying strips came crashing down. Poor Martin thought we were going to be crushed and then flogged to death! |
 |
| The wax was nearly off when the rumbling sound of the heat jets kicked in. |
I thought his eyes would pop out of his head as he felt the vibration and looked at me aghast. I kept trying to tell him it was ok and fend off his flailing arms at the same time.
I finally got him settled (I am not sure how exactly) when the jets started to wind down, and in front of us was this:
 |
| THE DOOR TO THE OUTSIDE WAS CLOSED! It is the red thing in the picture. |
The poor guy thought the car would smash through the door. He looked back and saw through the cleaning strips, brushes, assorted sprays, and the HEADLIGHTS of another car right behind us. We were going to be crushed, and that was that!
 |
| Oh my God, we were doomed! |
As we got closer, miraculously, the door began to rise, and thank the powers of the universe, we were out and free of all the sound, fury, and panic.
By the time the experience wore off, we were three blocks from the office parking garage. Martin actually laughed, albeit nervously, but laughed all the same, telling me it was an experience he'd not soon forget. Now that he understood what it was and that it was safe and not going to kill him, he'd like to try another car wash someday, but not soon.
When we returned to the floor where me department was, everyone turned around to look at a very dishevelled Martin, his tear-stained suit rumpled and damp from sweat; even his dark mahogany skin was three shades lighter. The poor man's eyes were still bugging from his head, and he looked like a deer caught in headlights. I looked no better. I was a rumbled mess from his fending me off from jumping out of the car. I explained me stupidity to everyone and left early for home just to manage my own stress of the moment.
Of course, me Mam being the only one home, I told her the sordid tale. And what did she do? She laughed so hard her sides ached. I thought I'd get some commiseration from her, but no, it was funny to her. I dunno, but I had me a straight-up Jameson to dull the memory, which, as you can read, is still with me and probably will be until Martin moves onto another area than mine.
SIGH!
Gabe
Copyright © 2016 All rights reserved
I am soo sorry! But as I'm reading, I have tears from laughing so damned hard. While I feel bad about the guys terror, YOU must have been a sweaty mess from trying to calm him down. And THAT'S funny!
ReplyDeleteHoly crap Batman, what an experience huh? I am sorry as well, I had to laugh, the more I read the harder I laughed. I would like to say one day it will be a distant memory, but something tells me you will be regaling your grandchildren by the fireside one day with this gem and what a story it is! ROFLMAO
ReplyDeleteYou do get yourself into the mix, LMAO.
ReplyDeleteomg! roflmao
ReplyDeleteDon't take Martin for an MRI ever! Poor bloke must have been claustrophobic! I know what he feels like
ReplyDelete