Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Survivor Man

Okay, so I happen to carry a survival kit in trunk of my car. Big Deal. Doesn’t everybody? (Well at least they should.) I was helping a friend move some things last night and he needed the extra carrying space my car provides. When I opened the back, he noticed my survival kit neatly tucked away in a corner. Among its contents is the usual stuff: A gallon of water, blankets, a poncho, flashlight, rope, a change of clothes, chemlights (or more affectionately known by club goers as glowsticks,) fix-a-flat, and a first aid kit. And then . . . there are the cones. Yes, instead of flares (which you should definitely have on hand,) I have cones. Everyone always makes fun of them! They laugh, scoff, and chortle (yes apparently people chortle,) at seeing those bright orange little pyramids stacked securely in the trunk, right next to the camouflage sleeping bag (Hey, you never know.) They really do come in handy though. Whether you have a flat tire, pull over to assist a fellow motorist, or need to secure a parking space (which I’ve never done. Okay, maybe once,) the cones, like little soldiers, are unquestionably ready for combat. These valiant and dauntless daredevils have never let me down. As a matter of fact, in a battle not long ago, one was lost in the line of duty. I remember that night well. The rain fell hard and stung my face. I found him flattened and mangled by the enemy while on patrol. He must have anticipated the ambush coming, but did not waver nor surrender his position (brave lad.) Sorrowfully, I carried his disfigured body away from enemy lines and back to the extraction point. He unselfishly gave his life that fateful night so that others would not have to [sniff.] Upon noticing the funnel-shaped traffic accessories, he asked in high tone of disbelief, “You have cones in your car?” He started to chuckle. I pretended to close the back door and said, “Hey man. If you’d prefer . . . . .” “No, no it’s cool dude, I appreciate the help,” he reassured me. That’s what I thought you insensitive buffoon. Don’t ever laugh at my cones. Now, if I can only find a use for those poles.

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