I Should've Called 'No Tag Backs!' :)
The time I was nearly shot.
This is a view of the St. Louis Union Station. I used to work at a restaurant that was right in front facing the (Market) street, and had (has?) large windows all along the street side. On the opposite side of the road was a large fountain sculpture that would routinely spray water well outside the fountain pool (as is evidenced by the photo). The local homeless people would bathe in it in the warmer months. This was funny considering how swanky the restaurant was- that folks would spend $20+ per entree (in the late 80's) to look out onto homeless people cleaning themselves and doing their laundry in this fountain. I remember vividly one evening a homless looking man walked up to the outside of the window (remember the movie Trading Spaces?) but instead of looking dejected or longingly at the food on table or the well to do people dining mere inches away on the inside, he whipped out his dick and pissed on the glass in a trajectory that would have (glass not withstanding) soaked the meal. The folks at the table were trying their best to ignore the guy, but some woman at another table started screaming and it everyone freaked. By the time anyone of authority could chase him off, he was done, and I was nearly sacked for laughing. This happened about where the word "me" is shown, but that's not the story I'm writing about. My busboy got stabbed in the face one night just to the right of the word "me" as he was leaving through the front door to go to the parking lot we all used marked with a green "X" as well, but that's not the story either.
My story, selfishly, is about the night I was shot at. Apparently someone near the red "X" on the right was in disagreement with someone near the left red "X" and decided to resolve the matter in a natural St. Louis fashion, gunplay. Completely unaware of this, I was leaving work late one night and was heading to the green "X" where I'd parked, and walked into the line of fire. I could swear to you that I heard the Doppeler Effect of the bullet, and dopey me, I stopped there to try and figure out what had just happened. So there I stood perplexed waiting for the sound to be repeated for further analysis and in harms way. Thankfully, the party on the left had sized up the situation more swiftly than I had and fled accordingly. This caused the party on the right to lose interest, or perhaps not wanting to answer questions (I know this motivation), they left too. So, with my catlike reflexes, I had a handle on the moment once the moment was over. In a cold sweat I drove home. And I didn't do my homework.
"Can I Take It To The Bridge?"
This is a photo of "the bridge" and this is home to several stories. This is the place where competitive freight train urinating was born [the rules are simple, how many freightcars can you partially or completely cover with urine without stopping. My best was 21- it was a fast moving train]. This was where my buddy Don and I spent countless hours discussing all matters of varying importance- ways to get booze, chix, drugs, and the designated hitter rule. This was where we moved a discarded couch onto the tracks and saw the hidden hydraulic arms on the front of the locomotive send the couch flying (and we got shot at with rock salt). It was a public road that never got used, and is sort of hidden within a private golf course. The golf course people weren't thrilled with us hanging out there and initially tried to hassle us out of there, but I've always been pig headed. Eventually they gave up since we never did anything to the golf course and would just offer us glaring looks as they went by.
In case you are wondering about the blue "X", I'll only say a gentleman never tells, and I won't either. Let's just say that the color is appropriate from a thermal point of view, and for further details you can inquire with Schmoopie