My old friend Brian emailed me recently with the subject header "That's me."
You see, Brian is a pilot for Delta and a buddy of his found a picture of him taking off from Manchester, England. And he's right. If you look a the photos you can clearly see him at the controls. Or not.
My friend Bill is a very astute guy, and he reminded me of that again during a recent conversation about my upcoming trip to Las Vegas.
"Las Vegas is great," said Bill. "You know, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Well, unless you catch something. Then it doesn't stay in Vegas at all, it comes home with you."
I was talking to a fellow Mountain View resident about our town when he asked me if I'd ever been to Mervyn's.
"You mean the department store?" I asked.
"No, the bar," he said.
"No, never heard of it," I said. "Where is it?"
"It's downtown off Castro Street, down an alley," said Colin in his Scottish accent. "It's a little dive bar."
"Cool," I said. "I'm a dive bar enthusiast."
"I go there every week," said Colin. "My friends and I usually go there Friday nights. I'll invite you along sometime."
That time was tonight.
I met Colin and his drinking buddies at Molly Magee's. We had a few pints and then headed over to Mervyn's. Colin wasn't kidding, the place was down an alley off the main drag. If you didn't know it was there, there's little chance you'd find it.
Mervyn's was packed with people of all colors, ages, shapes and sizes, but no wheelchairs, at least on this particular night. The drinks were cheap. There was no sale on 501s. This place is a one-room wonder. One bathroom, too, for both sexes to share.
You don't need to be an Ad Wizard to know that the advertising world is undergoing a rapid metamorphosis. All you need to do is drive down the El Camino Real a few blocks until you see a wired Mexican wearing headphones waving a yellow sign...
The advertising business hits a new low every day. Sure, subliminal advertising has been a hot topic for years, but when a television commercial disguises a marketing tactic as a legal and healthcare disclaimer, has the advertiser crossed the line?
I laugh everytime I see this commercial. You know what I'm talking about, it's the Cialis spot where they warn the audience about the condition of Priaprism, the condition of having a hard-on for more than four hours.
Most people would fall asleep during this commercial, but once the voice-over mentions a four-hour erection, the audience can't hep but ask, "What did I just hear?" And the advertiser wants us to. More than the Eli Lilly attorneys want to warn against the side effect of priaprism, the Cialis marketing team wants its product to be the most closely associated to the four-hour erection.
I was sleeping peacefully when I was awoken by sirens in the distance. Normally I would have instantly fallen back to sleep and forgotten that I'd ever heard them, but while I heard the sirens I heard a mild "boom" and then a crash.
A dog began to bark. Then I head a vehicle come to a screeching halt. I heard more sirens and the motors of the patrol cars driving by.
As I lay in my bed hearing these sounds, I debated whether or not to get up and be a gawker at the crash site. But this was close, and I might even see real blood! I got up, got dressed, grabbed my flashlight and walked out the door.
After walking a few houses up my street, I looked right at the intersection and saw a slew of patrol cars. I walked closer to the cars and saw a white truck had literally driven through a stop sign and hit a parked car. The stop sign was totaled, and so was the parked car. But before I could get too good of a look at the scene, a police officer yelled.
"Hi...," said the cop. I knew he was talking to me because I was blinded by his flashlight.
"Hi," I said.
"What's your name?" asked the cop.
"Leroy," I said.
Then he asked my last name and I told him.
"Do you have ID on you?" said the cop.
"No, I live right around the corner," I said.
"What are you doing out here?" asked the cop.
"Just curious. Like I said, I live in the neighborhood and I heard the crash and decided to check it out," I said.
"Go back inside your house," instructed the cop.
Well, anyone who knows me knows I don't like the pigs telling me what to do. Therefore, I backed off a bit to get out of easy eyesight of the cops, but I continued to watch. Shortly thereafter, a neighbor walked up to me and we speculated on what happened. Then we noticed that the mob of cops had thinned, and we again walked closer. We could see that the driver-side door of the white pick-up was open, and the cops were inspecting it. I kept expecting to see the driver somewhere bloodied and getting medical attention, but I saw no driver and no ambulance.
At that point I headed home, eager to get back to sleep. Just up the street a block or so I could see more emergency lights and a spotlight. I guessed the cops had blocked off the street due to the accident. I turned left toward my house.
Then I noticed the the spotlight seemed to be following me. I looked back and sure enough, the spotlight was on me. I was only two doors down from my house though, so it didn't matter... so I thought.
"Hey...," yelled another cop. I stopped and turned around.
"Come over here," the cop continued. I started walking toward him.
"Do me a favor and take you hands out of your pockets and put them out where I can see them," he said. I complied.
"What are you doing out here," the cop asked.
I went through the same routine as I did with the other cop, only this one didn't like the fact that I didn't have ID. He wrote down my name and birthdate and then called me into the dispatcher to run my name though the police computer. I started to laugh.
"What's so funny?" asked the cop.
"This," I said.
"Look man, it's not a smart idea to be out here," said the cop. "A white male fitting your description just took officers on a high-speed chase and crashed and fled the scene. There's a lot of guns out here right now."
"How would I know that?" I asked.
About then I could hear the dispatcher calling back my info over the radio.
"License: valid. Probation: negative," said the dispatcher.
