Guests of the City

I’ve mentioned a time or two I’m not a good traveler. I do NOT like to fly. But I like to go see stuff. I like to go visit people. (Funny thing about when I go visit people… I can’t warn them ahead of time. I just have to show up so I don’t give them time to plan an escape…).

Now when I decide to go “see” stuff, I guess I like to places where others go as well. We go to the beach. We go to museums. We go see the Mouse. Sometimes we plan trips around certain restaurants. A cruise. Various things in various places.

But I read recently where some tourists had been kidnapped while vacationing. Now don’t lose sleep. The seven Dwarfs have not gone rogue. The Grand Canyon has not been overrun by Al Qaeda. Not yet, anyway. And Hawaiian natives are not snatching tourists at Diamond Head.

No… this couple was in that romantically beautiful getaway of Yemen. Yes… Yemen. First off… as you read this, without looking anywhere, without using Google, just off the top of your head… try to imagine where Yemen is. Yeah… I had a vague idea, but still had to look to make sure.

Yemen has been in the news a good bit lately. And normally, when it’s in the news, it’s not for a good reason. They haven’t won an environmental prize. They haven’t discovered the cure for cancer. They haven’t invented a fat-free chocolate. Their VERY deserving President hasn’t won the Nobel Peace Prize. (Where did that LAST one come from)?

So when I’m thinking of some place to go and vacation, I tend to think of places where I can relax… kick back… have no worries… partake in a cold adult beverage… laugh with friends… and just let the stress settle. (Yes… I live a VERY stressful life. I have to watch the grass grow and know when it reaches the optimum growth point so I can call the guy that cuts it. VERY stressful. And I have to keep all the “stuff” outta the pool. Again… VERY stressful).

Needless to say, when I’m thinking of a vacation paradise, Yemen is not high on my list. Now when this subject came up, I did my homework and Googled it. There were quite a few hits. One was the Wikipedia with info, history, yada… yada… yada… One was the “official” CIA site about “do not travel here under threat of death.” And one was the “official” Yemen Tourism site.

I kid you not. One of the most dangerous spots in the world has a web site encouraging people to come and visit. “Forget all bad things you hear. Beheadings are quick… not much pain. You come to visit… we promise explosive time.” I’m just not sure I can trust the Minister of Tourism, Nabil Hassen Al-Fakih. If that ain’t an Al Qaeda name, I don’t know what is. Now if he was Nabil Jim-Bob Al-Fakih Smith, we might be in business.

I liked one of their “selling” points… “Yemen is Arabia's undiscovered gem.” Well DUHHHH! I wonder why that is? You visit… you die. Everything stays undiscovered.
They also offer day trips to Socotra Island, inhabited by fishermen (Al Qaeda) of African origin, using African huts (and AK-47s) and Nomads of Arab origin (Al Qaeda on the run).

So back to the kidnapped couple. “Security Officials” said the two had been kidnapped by tribal gunmen. The “security officials”, a taxi driver and tribesmen, said the couple were removed from the taxi and taken to a nearby village where they were now “guests” of the village.

I’m not sure what being a kidnapped “guest” of the village entails in Yemen. For some reason, that was glaringly overlooked on the Ministry of Tourism site. I would think a key to the village might be in order. Maybe being the guest of honor at a dinner… where you are the main dish?

If I ever end up vacationing in Yemen, I might opt for the optional day trip across the bay to a safe location. I saw Somalia was just a boat ride away. But in all seriousness, when I go to plan a trip, I try to stay on the main path. If Drew Carey doesn’t give away a trip to the location on “The Price is Right,” my butt ain’t going there.

And that’s MY take.

Is It Worth All That?

Ding Dong! Yes… good day. I’m Tom from the US Census Bureau and I’d like to… SLAM!!

Knock Knock! Yes… good day. I’m Tom from the US Census Bureau and… SLAM!!

Knock Knock! Yes… hello. I’m Tom from the US Census… SLAM!!

Ding Dong! Knock Knock! Ding Dong! Hello… my name is Tom and I’m with the US… SLAM!!

BAM!! BAM!! BAM!! Look… I can SEE you peeking out of the dang curtains.

Knock Knock! ARRRRRGGGGGHHHH!! Growl… BARK… BARK… ARRGGHH… Ding Dong! Ding Dong! Ding Dong! Yes… hi. Is this your nice little Rottweiler? Yes… he’s very playful. And do you have some bandages? Are his shots up to date?

What is up with folks these days? The Census has been in the news for a few months. And over the last few weeks, there have been stories on the national news and in print that the Census workers are coming by homes to get required information. You would think we were asking for money. Or were a religious group ringing your door bell.

I don’t know what scares people. All I do is ring the bell. When they open the door, I tell them up front “I’m from the government and I’m here to get information about you.” How could that POSSIBLY be scary?? And if they tell me they don’t want to answer and what am I going to do… I tell them “Nothing. I’m not going to do anything. But the men in black suits who show up in the middle of the night and take you away… THEY might do something.”

In the first week alone, six Census workers died in car accidents. Now I can understand that. After sitting in the training class for four days, I can see where driving might be a problem for some of those folks. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised that walking and breathing at the same time would be tough for some of them. There are a few that might have to walk a few steps… stop and breathe… walk a few steps… stop and breathe…

But SOME folks go over the top. I read in the paper where one Census worker in Florida was attacked with a pick ax. A PICK AX folks! And not to be out done, but a California resident attacked a Census worker with a crossbow. Ya know… right off the top of my head… I don’t even know anyone that OWNS a crossbow.

But leave it to Texas to top the cake. An attorney… AN ATTORNEY FOR GOSH SAKES… has been arrested for attacking a Census worker with a gun. A GUN!! How paranoid do you have to be over a few personal questions (name, age, date of birth, race, etc…) that you attack at Census worker at all? Let alone with a GUN!!

Funny part is… it appears the Census worker is ok after being shot AT five times. FIVE times. The attorney shot five times and missed five times. With an aim like that, sounds like that attorney should be a census worker.

And that’s MY take.

There Needs to be a Dress Code

Certain functions require that you dress in a certain way. It’s just the way things are. I was in the military for a few years and we had certain clothes we had to wear. We even had regulations to tell us how to wear them correctly. And I couldn’t mix and match, either.

Fire fighters have certain clothes they have to wear. You seldom see a fireman running into a burning house wearing a prom dress. He follows the dress code and wears his fire gear. Surgeons wear sterile scrubs in the operating room. They don’t wear a Mickey Mouse costume when they remove your kidney. And if you go to the symphony, you normally dress accordingly in a nice tux or a suit and tie.

Yeah… this is going some place, so just hang with me.

So I’ve been watching this protest in Thailand the past few days. Thirty people, all of them civilians, have been killed and 232 wounded in four days of street fighting between Red Shirt protesters and troops in central Bangkok, Thailand's main emergency medical center said Sunday. The Red Shirts have been protesting since mid-March demanding the immediate resignation of Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva, the dissolution of Parliament, and new elections.

I can sort sympathize with them. I don’t vote for anyone whose name I can’t pronounce. And Abhisit Vejjajive sounds just bit Al Qaeda-ish to me. He needs to go and they need a Joe or Bob or something easy like that.

But anyway… I’ve been watching this and kinda keeping up with it. And they post pictures every day of various aspects of the riots. Injured folks in the hospital, troops manning check points, burning tires, etc… all the stuff you expect to see at a good riot.

Now in these photos, most folks are following the “Dress Code for Riots.” (Yeah… there is such a thing… I looked it up). The soldiers are in their riot gear… helmets, face shields, billy clubs, boots, “How to Survive a Riot” manual, etc… your standard riot stuff if you’re the soldiers. And then you have the rioters in their stuff… jeans, t-shirts, boots or tennis shoes (that is an optional thing), bandana for covering your face, “How to Kick Police Booty” manual, etc…

So I’m getting caught up on the newest developments and taking a look at the posted photos… and I notice one that catches my eye. There are about five guys carrying an injured comrade to safety. And the guys have all read the memo on what to wear… jeans, boots, bandanas, etc… except for ONE guy. There is always ONE guy in the bunch who didn’t get the memo or decides he’s just going out on his own and will wear what he wants.

And this ONE guy… is he “over” dressed? Oh no. I wouldn’t say that… since all he is wearing is a thong. A THONG!! This guy wears a THONG to a protest. Now first of all, guys shouldn’t wear thongs. I don’t care what you think. This is Jester’s Journal. I’m the Jester. And I say guys shouldn’t wear thongs. Period.

But just in case some guys don’t agree with me and decide they CAN wear a thong, it should be covered… by a great MANY layers of clothing. But not THIS guy. He is out at a protest in Thailand, getting world-wide press coverage, and all he has on is a thong. No shoes… no shirt… no bandana… just a thong.

Yeah, I’m sorry… there needs to be a dress code.

And that’s MY take.

Is She Gonna Live?

Just exactly what constitutes an “emergency” to you? What ailments would prompt you to make a trip to the “Emergency” Room? A life or death situation is a given… I understand that. But what non-life threatening afflictions would you think are serious enough to be considered an emergency?

So OWN (‘Ol Weird Nancy) was working some overtime recently. She is the Chief Cheeto Inspector at work. Anytime you get a bag of Cheetos, there is normally one in the bag that has a thin line down the side. That’s where she runs her tongue down it to ensure the Cheeto will taste correct.

And she has a tendency to bring her work home with her, too. We have Cheeto stuff all over the house. She comes in at night and turns on the lights, opens doors, etc… And the next morning, there is Cheeto orange all over everything.

But anyway… OWN was working some overtime recently and got sick at work. So they called me at home and explained the situation. And me being the loving, concerned husband that I am, asked if she could make it to the end of her shift. This WAS overtime, after all. But they said she couldn’t and that I needed to come get her. Now it just so happened that we had a friend in town who was closer, so I called and had her pick OWN up to bring her home.

Well… OWN was sick. And due to some previous situations, under an abundance of caution, the decision was made to take her to hospital. Now this was on a weekend, so it HAD to be the emergency room. Hickville doesn’t have a 24-hour Urgent Care type facility that we can run to on a moments notice. (Any doctors out there reading this and looking for a potential $$$ maker… HICKVILLE DOESN’T HAVE AN URGENT CARE).

So I made it to the hospital and was immediately ushered back to OWN, who I noticed was in “Trauma 2. Now I was immediately ushered back only because no one else was in the waiting room upon my arrival. That is one good thing about living in Hickville… seldom do you have to wait at the emergency room, unlike many larger towns. And this is especially true when there is a NASCAR race on… which there was.

So I was ushered back to Trauma 2 to see OWN. She was laid out… colorless… enough wires to launch a shuttle mission… an invisible IV setup in her arm, in CASE they needed to give her an IV… and a clip on her finger. The monitor on the wall kept track of all the vital information: heart rate, BP, oxygen content, hospital charges, etc… Every fifteen minutes or so, the BP cuff would inflate and the hospital charges would go up. Funny how that worked.

So we sat there for a little while waiting on the folks to decide what the problem appeared to be. I had enough time to get caught up on the newspapers from that day AND the previous day (I should have been a Boy Scout, cause I always go prepared). It got kinda annoying trying to read the paper and hearing that BP cuff inflate every fifteen minutes. It made that little buzzing sound and you could hear the air going in. Then it would be quiet for a minute and then the air going out. And then that VERY annoying cha-CHING as the hospital charges increased.

So after a while, the nurse came in and said the blood work all looked normal. Now that is something they never tell me when I’m at the doctor… NOTHING about me looks normal. Not my blood samples, looks, x-rays, nothing. Everything about ME is abnormal. But she gave us the paperwork to send OWN home and said the doctor would be right in.

So while we’re waiting, I glanced at the paperwork I had just signed. It had a few instructions for follow-up at home. Diet, restrictions, meds, and Chief Complaint. And listed by Chief Complaint in LARGE BOLD letters was: CONSTIPATION.

They almost had to put me in Trauma 1 for hysterics. The doctor came in and thought I was having a seizure in the floor. I finally somewhat composed myself and asked him where he went to school to come up with THAT diagnosis.
So he took the discharge form looked at it and said “Oh… they put the wrong info on here.” YA THINK?? Heart palpitations, light-headedness, tremors,…yep… worst case of constipation I’ve ever seen.

So they corrected her discharge instructions and sent us on our way still laughing. But this brought about another dilemma for me: there was another patient in the ER suffering from constipation. Now just how bad does it have to get before you decide you need to go to the ER for that?? Can’t you get something at Wally*Mart to take at home?

I’d LOVE to be the doc for that case. “You’re here for WHAT? Sir… you can take this medicine and stick it up your…”

And that’s MY take.

Please Dress Appropriately

So if you have been following my saga over the past few posts, you are aware that I’ve been summoned to act as an Enumerator on behalf of the Census Bureau. It’s all VERY official. I have a black satchel with “US CENSUS BUREAU” on it and a name badge that I wear around my neck. And I had to write my own name on it. Yeah… your government spared NO expense on my supplies.

Because we are government workers and we represent our country, it was mentioned that we should dress “appropriately.” That was all that was said. My idea of appropriate and someone else’s idea of appropriate might be two different things. Now they did mention that jeans with holes probably aren’t appropriate.

So on the afternoon of the third day of training, they threw us to the wolves. We took our little black satchels, our name badge with our hand written names, and off we went to face the public. Knock on doors. Run from dogs. Dodge bullets. Right into the thick of things.

First house was pretty cool. Friendly… answered the questions. Thanks and have a nice day. On to the next house. Talked to a neighbor… got what was needed. Next house… nobody home. Next house… nobody home. Next house… got the info and moved on.

THEN things got interesting. I just had a feeling this was going to be a good one when I pulled into the driveway and saw they had a cable running from the inside of the house to the window sill on the outside of the house. And connected to the cable was a set of rabbit ears with tin foil prominently hanging from them. (Actually… I thought I had pulled into my own driveway.)

So we head to the front door and knock. You could hear movement through the open window, so somebody was in there. Knocked and waited again. Finally the door opened and a lady was standing there wrapped in a towel. We explained who we were and that we needed to chat for about 10 minutes.

She explained that we had interrupted her shower and would it be ok if she got dressed before we started. Lady… from the way you look, NOTHING would make me happier. And please feel free to bush that one tooth you have there on the top. We’ll be glad to wait.

So she goes off to get dressed and comes back and steps out on the porch since we aren’t allowed to enter homes… not that I would have WANTED to enter this home. And then the screaming starts. The younguns can’t see Mama. She is on the porch with the door shut and they can’t see her and they commence to wailing. And screaming. And pawing at the door.

Finally, one of them manages to get the door open and two of them run out… naked as jay birds. About two years and three years… somewhere right in there. And they dance around on the porch and then head off into the yard. I explained we would be MORE than happy to wait if she wanted to get some clothes on them, but she said they were used to running around like that.

At some point, the little boy made his way in the house and found some shorts he brought to her to put on him. So then he is running around the yard in a pair of shorts and the little girl is just enjoying being one with nature. And that is how we left them.

On to the next address. Hmmm… house under renovation. But there is a car in the drive and the front door is open. So we made our way to the front door and knocked. And we waited. The house is obviously empty, but we have a job to do. After all, I have a satchel and a name badge with a hand-written name. By golly, I’m going to do this job. So we knocked again.

After another short wait, a little lady of… oh… maybe 60-ish… came around the open door. Staggering. Wobbly. All bug eyed. We explained who we were, showed her our hand-written name badge and told her what we needed and that it would take about 10 minutes. “Huh? Who are you? I’ve been painting in the kitchen. Do you think I should open a window? I was having to sit down when I heard you knock.”

Folks… this was just the first afternoon of this journey. I still have five or six more weeks to go. And they actually give me money to do this. I almost would have paid THEM for this opportunity.

And that’s MY take.

Count Me In

So I’m thinking the amount of loose rocks in and around Hicksville has been reduced by a few. And the reason I think that is because the US Department of Commerce has hired some of them (me included) to help with the 2010 census.

OMG!! Where do you find these people?? Well… besides here in Hickville I mean. I thought the training was bad. It wasn’t. It was listening to some of the questions these folks come up with.

OK… the rules are clear. We DO NOT work overtime. It isn’t allowed. Forty hours is it. If you work more than 40 hours, men in black suits will come to your house in the middle of the night, snatch you, take you to an undisclosed location, and pull your toe nails out. No… REALLY. They are serious about no overtime.

Uhhhh… so what if I have 39 hours and 55 minutes in for the week and I’m at a house and the owner is cutting a tree and he drops the chainsaw and it cuts my leg off. Should I go to the ER then or wait until the next pay cycle so I don’t get overtime?

What? How much clearer can I make this? No overtime. Period. Tie a tourniquet around your leg and wait until the next pay period to get treated. You still have another leg.

OK… we’re going to meet at a central location each day so you can turn in your pay forms and discuss any problems you have had. McDonald’s is pretty central and easy to get to for everyone.

Uhhhh… so I don’t like McDonald’s. Can we meet at Hardees instead? What if I didn’t work the previous day and don’t have a pay form… do I still have to show up? I have a doctor’s appointment on Monday in Topeka and won’t be back in time to meet you. Will I still get paid?

OK… on these forms, you need to use a #2 pencil which we have provided and you MUST write in block letters. This is extremely important. These forms are fed through an optical reader, so block letters are very important. Also, please ensure you do not fold the forms anywhere EXCEPT on the creases which are already there. Again… these forms will be sent through an optical reader and additional creases will cause the form to reject.

Uhhh… so what if I’m out working and it starts to rain and the bottom falls out and all my forms get soaked so bad you can’t read them?

If it appears it’s going to rain, please take some precautions to ensure the items we have provided remain dry. We have given you a zippered shoulder bag to keep your supplies in. Please ensure you use it.

Uhhh… so what if it’s sunny when I start but the storm sneaks up on me? And I go back to my car to keep my supplies dry, but I accidentally work over 40 hours because I was trying to keep stuff dry while doing a good job?

Then you can kiss your toenails good-bye!

And that’s MY take.