Wednesday, June 10, 2009


Today I almost got run over by a Haz-mat emergency truck.

I didn't even realize they had emergency trucks.

Apparently they do, and one zipped passed the intersection of Lafayette and Great Jones as I was coming out of work. I shouldn't say zipped. I should say was moving pretty quickly but I was listening to "My Life" by Billy Joel and that made me feel bold so I ran for it.

Things I had learned about myself in the thirty second period on either end of the near-miss:

If I were stuck on a desert island and I could only listen to one artist and I was assigned that artist and it was Billy Joel, I would be cool with that. You're probably wondering why I was assigned an artist and I didn't pick one. Well, the thing is, see, that I was in the Office of Desert Islands for about forty-five minutes going through their collection when I realized they should just pick for me and I'd be fine with whatever. I usually am.

If I wasn't already going to title my autobiography Sorry...So sorry...Sorry I'm Here (per Robber Baron), I would probably call it Fine with Whatever.


Anyway, the other thing I learned as the truck drove past was that I absolutely do not question the status of that emergency. Sometimes a police car or even a firetruck will speed by and you'll think "might not be a big deal." I feel like there are no small hazard material leaks. Right?

Which reminds me of Alex Mack. Which I never really watched growing up, but reference frequently.

What's Larissa Oleynik doing?


Jesse said...

Didn't a Hazmat crew get called into your high school to clean up a baking soda spill in the era of ZOMG ANTHRAX? The way I remember you describing it to me was a pile of mysterious white powder next to an overturned box marked "baking soda". Erm.


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