Back in 2004, I packed all my belongings, my disgruntled cat and moved from Georgia to to Texas. Gertrude and I left behind our friends and comfort zone. We didn't especially like where we were, but at least there we had a plan. That plan was to succeed -- to be a big city, big time, world-changing writer. But we stopped in our tracks and packed up and headed west. Why, you ask? Because I was hopelessly in love with a boy. I was utterly smitten. So much so that I did the one thing I said I would NEVER do – leave my career path for something as icky as love. Not only did I abandon my "plan," but I also took a job that was really a step down for me. To add insult to injury, I had an hour-and-a-half commute each way to my job every day.
Basically, I moved to be close to the love of my life, but I ended up in the car or working most of the day. I was only home from 8 p.m. to 6 a.m. each day. It doesn't take long working crazy hours for a completely INSANE boss to take its toll. By the end of the first six months, I knew I was burning out. I knew I couldn't sustain that lifestyle very much longer. Honestly, the only thing that kept me going was the stability of a friendship I'd struck up with the intern who worked in our photography department. From the moment I met Jaime' I knew he and I were going to be great friends. Not only was he a talented photographer, but he was also funny, sarcastic and sweet. And he was just as fucked up as I was. Going through the all the motions of such a stressful, horrifying, ridiculous assignments together made it so much more bearable.
In our year together, we went to a secluded part of the county known as The Killing Fields. It was a popular place to dump bodies after murderers and rapists had finished with their victims. We also harassed illegal immigrants having a garage sale, went to countless wreck scenes together and fell in love with a big black dog that survived an airplane crash only to be put down the following day. There was the little girl who needed a new heart that bit me and the other child who "spoke" to God and drew us pictures she claimed were messages from her Savior. We went out to The Scariest Place On Earth, an old junkyard owned by what I'm pretty sure was a voodoo queen and we stalked down John Kerry supporters outside the most conservative voting precinct in America (not a sole would admit to voting for him.) Oh, and my personal favorite: Jaime' and I spent a very romantic Valentine's Day together. We climbed through the mud and cow shit to do a story on twin calves born and the rancher's wife who had named them Val and Tina. Then we returned to the newsroom and refused to change out of our cow shit covered clothes because we wanted to share our suffering with everyone in sniff distance from us.
While all these episodes are memorable, there is one moment that stands out most. Perhaps because it was captured on film.
It was a Friday afternoon and Jaime and I had been out all day looking for "illegal" garage sales. By illegal, I mean garage sales being held without the purchase of one of the city's new garage sale permits. God, people hated us that day. We'd been asked to leave yard sale after yard sale without getting a single comment. Things were starting to look pretty dismal so we decided to pull into the local A&W Burger/Long John Silver's. When we were pulling into the parking lot, we noticed that the local police had several cars pulled over near the restaurant. It appeared as though they were issuing speeding tickets. Jaime even mentioned how lucky we were to not get caught up in the speed trap, as he was frustrated and had been using his lead foot. Well, at least our crappy day wasn't THAT crappy, I said.
As we got in line to order, the manager walked up to us and gave us coupons for free burgers. Well, now, you could have knocked us over with a feather! We weren't expecting that little bit of kindness. And let me tell you, the manager was one of those people you don't forget. He was extremely nice and generous. He was well dressed and very articulate, and reminded me of a politician kissing babies. Happy with our near free meal, we both ordered the bacon cheeseburger with chili cheese fries. After I took a few bites of food, I stepped outside the restaurant to call our NUTSO boss and tell him were having NO luck producing the story and photos he wanted. I noticed that in the distance the same cops had four more cars pulled over. It was by far the most successful speed trap I had ever seen.
Finally Jaime and I were able to finish our meal in peace. Our boss knew the story was unlikely to materialize and he didn't seem too crazy mad about. So perhaps our day was looking up. Jaime and I then started talking about my wedding plans. As a dripped chili down the front of my sweater, Jaime commented on what a graceful bride I'd be. Then he got so tickled at his own joke he snorted root beer out his nose and down his own shirt. And so our comedy of errors continued with one of dumping a drink over onto the floor, flooding the other's side of the table. Then I tripped leaving the restaurant and Jaime grabbed my arm, which didn't so much stop my bumbling as jerk him around too. Eventually we made it back to Jaime's car and made our way back to the office.
And our wonderful experience at the A&W Burger/Long John Silver's was over. Or so we thought.
The following Monday Jaime runs up to my desk and practically carries me out of the newsroom. His face showed a mix of panic and amusement. When were in fairly secluded smoking area outside the office, Jaime began to recount his morning at the police station to me. He'd be over to snap a photo of a detective that was receiving an award when he ran into one of the drug enforcement officers. The officer asked him if he had a minute, then pulled Jaime into his office and been questioning him on what he knew about a recent drug bust and covert surveillance that had been going on. Jaime, of course, had no clue what the guy was talking about. The man was incredulous. He kept saying, "But we saw you and that reporter there." Jaime was baffled. Finally the officer summoned the information officer and Jaime was let to a room with a television and DVD player.
As the footage the rolled, he saw himself and I sitting in the A&W/Long John Silvers the previously Friday. We were doing our usual thing – being clumsy and loud and pigging out. We were just there hiding out from an angry boss and seeking solace in a hamburger. But the audio attached to the video told an entirely different story. The voices of two veteran detectives were uttering profanity, wondering why on earth the reporter and photographer from the local paper had just crashed their drug bust. It was dangerous and stupid, one was saying. The other was calling us things that would make you blush. They just assumed we had a clue what was going on and were there to capture the climax. Oh how wrong they were. We were just after a burger. All though, with the day we were having if we'd known they were selling drugs at the drive through in fish dinner boxes, then we might have been a bit tempted.
The surveilence tape had captured our every move. From dropping chili down my shirt, to Jaime spitting root beer out his nose. By the time were leaving for the car, the cops had realized we were nothing more than patrons, and they found that absolutely hilarious. Oh, how funny it was to them that we'd stumbled onto a story that was so big it would be joked about on the Tonight Show. Yet we were blind to it. We were too pissy about stalking illegal garage sales to notice the major drug bust going on around us.
Here's a link to a mention of the bust in the news. The really super nice manager turned out to be a super nice criminal and is now in the pen. I guess in addition to share coupons he also liked to pass around weed. And that tape of the us – journalists – spilling food down our fronts and whining about how hard life is played at every Christmas party. I'm told, we're something of station legend.
Basically, I moved to be close to the love of my life, but I ended up in the car or working most of the day. I was only home from 8 p.m. to 6 a.m. each day. It doesn't take long working crazy hours for a completely INSANE boss to take its toll. By the end of the first six months, I knew I was burning out. I knew I couldn't sustain that lifestyle very much longer. Honestly, the only thing that kept me going was the stability of a friendship I'd struck up with the intern who worked in our photography department. From the moment I met Jaime' I knew he and I were going to be great friends. Not only was he a talented photographer, but he was also funny, sarcastic and sweet. And he was just as fucked up as I was. Going through the all the motions of such a stressful, horrifying, ridiculous assignments together made it so much more bearable.
In our year together, we went to a secluded part of the county known as The Killing Fields. It was a popular place to dump bodies after murderers and rapists had finished with their victims. We also harassed illegal immigrants having a garage sale, went to countless wreck scenes together and fell in love with a big black dog that survived an airplane crash only to be put down the following day. There was the little girl who needed a new heart that bit me and the other child who "spoke" to God and drew us pictures she claimed were messages from her Savior. We went out to The Scariest Place On Earth, an old junkyard owned by what I'm pretty sure was a voodoo queen and we stalked down John Kerry supporters outside the most conservative voting precinct in America (not a sole would admit to voting for him.) Oh, and my personal favorite: Jaime' and I spent a very romantic Valentine's Day together. We climbed through the mud and cow shit to do a story on twin calves born and the rancher's wife who had named them Val and Tina. Then we returned to the newsroom and refused to change out of our cow shit covered clothes because we wanted to share our suffering with everyone in sniff distance from us.
While all these episodes are memorable, there is one moment that stands out most. Perhaps because it was captured on film.
It was a Friday afternoon and Jaime and I had been out all day looking for "illegal" garage sales. By illegal, I mean garage sales being held without the purchase of one of the city's new garage sale permits. God, people hated us that day. We'd been asked to leave yard sale after yard sale without getting a single comment. Things were starting to look pretty dismal so we decided to pull into the local A&W Burger/Long John Silver's. When we were pulling into the parking lot, we noticed that the local police had several cars pulled over near the restaurant. It appeared as though they were issuing speeding tickets. Jaime even mentioned how lucky we were to not get caught up in the speed trap, as he was frustrated and had been using his lead foot. Well, at least our crappy day wasn't THAT crappy, I said.
As we got in line to order, the manager walked up to us and gave us coupons for free burgers. Well, now, you could have knocked us over with a feather! We weren't expecting that little bit of kindness. And let me tell you, the manager was one of those people you don't forget. He was extremely nice and generous. He was well dressed and very articulate, and reminded me of a politician kissing babies. Happy with our near free meal, we both ordered the bacon cheeseburger with chili cheese fries. After I took a few bites of food, I stepped outside the restaurant to call our NUTSO boss and tell him were having NO luck producing the story and photos he wanted. I noticed that in the distance the same cops had four more cars pulled over. It was by far the most successful speed trap I had ever seen.
Finally Jaime and I were able to finish our meal in peace. Our boss knew the story was unlikely to materialize and he didn't seem too crazy mad about. So perhaps our day was looking up. Jaime and I then started talking about my wedding plans. As a dripped chili down the front of my sweater, Jaime commented on what a graceful bride I'd be. Then he got so tickled at his own joke he snorted root beer out his nose and down his own shirt. And so our comedy of errors continued with one of dumping a drink over onto the floor, flooding the other's side of the table. Then I tripped leaving the restaurant and Jaime grabbed my arm, which didn't so much stop my bumbling as jerk him around too. Eventually we made it back to Jaime's car and made our way back to the office.
And our wonderful experience at the A&W Burger/Long John Silver's was over. Or so we thought.
The following Monday Jaime runs up to my desk and practically carries me out of the newsroom. His face showed a mix of panic and amusement. When were in fairly secluded smoking area outside the office, Jaime began to recount his morning at the police station to me. He'd be over to snap a photo of a detective that was receiving an award when he ran into one of the drug enforcement officers. The officer asked him if he had a minute, then pulled Jaime into his office and been questioning him on what he knew about a recent drug bust and covert surveillance that had been going on. Jaime, of course, had no clue what the guy was talking about. The man was incredulous. He kept saying, "But we saw you and that reporter there." Jaime was baffled. Finally the officer summoned the information officer and Jaime was let to a room with a television and DVD player.
As the footage the rolled, he saw himself and I sitting in the A&W/Long John Silvers the previously Friday. We were doing our usual thing – being clumsy and loud and pigging out. We were just there hiding out from an angry boss and seeking solace in a hamburger. But the audio attached to the video told an entirely different story. The voices of two veteran detectives were uttering profanity, wondering why on earth the reporter and photographer from the local paper had just crashed their drug bust. It was dangerous and stupid, one was saying. The other was calling us things that would make you blush. They just assumed we had a clue what was going on and were there to capture the climax. Oh how wrong they were. We were just after a burger. All though, with the day we were having if we'd known they were selling drugs at the drive through in fish dinner boxes, then we might have been a bit tempted.
The surveilence tape had captured our every move. From dropping chili down my shirt, to Jaime spitting root beer out his nose. By the time were leaving for the car, the cops had realized we were nothing more than patrons, and they found that absolutely hilarious. Oh, how funny it was to them that we'd stumbled onto a story that was so big it would be joked about on the Tonight Show. Yet we were blind to it. We were too pissy about stalking illegal garage sales to notice the major drug bust going on around us.
Here's a link to a mention of the bust in the news. The really super nice manager turned out to be a super nice criminal and is now in the pen. I guess in addition to share coupons he also liked to pass around weed. And that tape of the us – journalists – spilling food down our fronts and whining about how hard life is played at every Christmas party. I'm told, we're something of station legend.
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