shit happens (true story) | |
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Anonymous Coward User ID: 807550 United States 11/05/2009 03:17 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | I can relate to your story, because I had a similar one in 1990, when I had lost my shore side job. My story took place in spain, I was pennyless, and wound in spain waiting on a the sea isle city, stayed in a first class hotel for 3 weeks waiting for the ship, got aboard and made a lot of money, quit sailing one year later, and went on to other things. It's a much longer story with many twists and turns, but don't feel like typing the whole thing. NW |
II-Neutron User ID: 806646 Canada 11/05/2009 03:35 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | What a wonderful story! Quoting: Anonymous Coward 809698[email protected] By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a strange country, dwelling in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise:For he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God. Hebrews: 11 |
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ntisithoj (OP) User ID: 810584 Argentina 11/05/2009 07:08 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | Zzzzzzzz. Quoting: Anonymous Coward 810737Boring and fake Hahahah... well, this IS the story nobody believes... but it is all absolutely true (and I even left out some of the truly bizarre parts) And there is a part II to this story... remember how I bought that darkroom from that cute sales lady? (btw, we're divorced and I am living on-the-lamb as a fugitive in Argentina... so there's a story there also!) Back in those days I was a photographer. I studied all sorts of photography and became interested in various film developing techniques. Many of these antiquated processes required exotic and reactive chemicals that were easily purchased but not commonly known. These chemicals were usually quite expensive, and I stored them in a dark corner of a shelf in my closet. Long after I no longer used these chemicals, they were still stored in my closet. I would never have thrown them out as they represented what I once loved and hoped to someday return to. I did, however, forget they were there in my closet. Years later, I subleted my apartment to a woman friend for a few months while I was out of town. Being a stereotypical man, I did not go to great lengths, of even moderate lengths, to keep my apartment organized, clean or tidy. My friend, being a stereotypical woman, did, and one day she decided to organize, clean and tidy the mess that was her temporary home. She was doing a fine job, she assured me later, when she began to rearrange my closet, and in the process dropped a bottle exotic film developer (pyrogalol), a highly reactive yellow powder that tends to turn everything black it touches. Barefoot, she began to sweep up the chemical and in the process created clouds of dust, which she breathed in. She began to feel a little lightheaded and sat on the couch, where upon she noticed the soles of her feet had turned black. She began to get a little concerned and called 911 to ask them who she should call to describe the symptoms to and determine if she should be worried or not. 911, upon hearing that she was exposed to some sort of chemical, immediately called the New York City Fire Department and an ambulance. First the police cars showed up and blocked off the entrance to the building, then the ambulance came and brought her to the hospital. Then came the three fire trucks, lights blinking and sirens screaming down my street to stop in front of my apartment building. This activity brought every person in every building out into the streets as well, all wondering what was going on. The fully geared firemen were on the streets and in the hall, but refused to come into the apartment until they knew what the chemical was, but they also chose not to leave the scene. They called the Department of Environmental Protection and asked them to dispatch an expert to evaluate the chemical. The DEP cars and trucks arrived on the scene, again with lights flashing and sirens blaring. These men looked far more threatening with their Men In Black personas and suits than the firemen did. The DEP then called the Hazardous Materials Team (HAZMAT) and told them there was a potentially deadly chemical dust that needed to be removed from the premises. In the meantime, speculation on the street had spread like wildfire. There were rumors that some woman’s feet had been chemically melted off; that some new super potent street drug process had gone wrong; that crack heads had tried to burn the building down (a staple paranoia), and many more. Just before HAZMAT arrived, the DEP Men-In-Black pushed the people back as they expanded the perimeter of the 'crime scene', adding an even more dire tone to this event. When the two HAZMAT vans arrived on the scene, confusion turned quickly to terror when the crowd saw men exit from the vans in full Class-5 biohazard suits and moving quickly into my apartment building. Meanwhile, the doctors at the hospital were in touch with the Men-In-Black, and fearing the worst, they quarantined my friend immediately in a private room. By this time she felt fine, but she would be kept under lockdown for the next five days. East 4th St. looked like a raid on a bio-terrorist lab. HAZMAT scrubbed down my apartment and collected all the dust, which amounted to about 1 ounce, into a medium size bio-hazard hermetically sealed steel drum, which they left in the middle on my apartment, along with a bill of lading, stating that upon demand, at any time, I am to show proof of where this toxic waste was located. I learned that it would cost a minimum of $500 to have this 'toxic waste' officially disposed of. Oddly, they did not demand I dispose of it, merely that I knew of its whereabouts. Twelve years later the people in my neighborhood still speculate as to what was really going on in my apartment. The truth will never satisfy them because they would never believe that our street was closed off with police, ambulance, fire trucks, DEP officials and HAZMAT bio-cops over a spilt bottle of film developer. Something much more sinister must have really happened. To comply with the demand that I must show proof of where this ‘deadly’ toxin is, I opted to convert the steel drum into a lovely end table. |
ntisithoj (OP) User ID: 810584 Argentina 11/05/2009 07:10 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | I sailed tankers for 15 years in the far east and persian gulf. Quoting: Anonymous Coward 807550I can relate to your story, because I had a similar one in 1990, when I had lost my shore side job. My story took place in spain, I was pennyless, and wound in spain waiting on a the sea isle city, stayed in a first class hotel for 3 weeks waiting for the ship, got aboard and made a lot of money, quit sailing one year later, and went on to other things. It's a much longer story with many twists and turns, but don't feel like typing the whole thing. NW aw, come on! it will live forever on GLP |
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ntisithoj (OP) User ID: 811889 Argentina 11/06/2009 10:54 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
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