no groundhog here
Greetings from Alaska. I just arrived at the newspaper for day 3 and I have only a few minutes before we go live on the new system. Hence, I have just enough time to tell the tale of a quick encounter of mine this morning.
I overslept. If my hotel has taught me anything these past three nights it is the hard truth that waking up early in the morning to go to work is quite difficult when you have no clock. Waking up at five in a panic that you overslept is remarkably easy, but waking up a second time shortly after that is like trying to [insert hurdle too difficult to overcome here] while underwater. Back to the story, I quickly showered, shaved and ran downstairs, stopping briefly to grab a complimentary coffee (Raven's Brew, what a name). On my way out the door the old man that I've grown accustomed to sharing breakfast with in the morning scampered up to me; he had been hosing of the sidwalk in front of the place and he had, for the first time all week, a youthful spark in his eye. When he was within reach he grabbed my arm and cried, "You missed it!" I smiled and asked, "What did I miss?" "For about two hours this morning it stopped raining!" was his reply. Because I was running so late I had already freed myself of his grasp and began walking away, but I smiled and said, "I guess I should start waking up earlier, then." A cheesy reply? Yes. But he nodded vigorously, and besides he's only my old nameless breakfast buddy who tells me the same story each morning...what more is there to say in response to such an outburst?
But that's Ketchikan. The two hours since I've been here that it stopped raining is the current best-moment, despite the fact that I was sleeping. And what was this old guy doing hosing off the sidewalk?! Was he afraid those two hours might have dehydrated the concrete? I'm baffled. The story ends when I arrived here at the paper to find the doors locked and no one here. I slipped in the back entrance (through the actually press room...I got some weird looks from those guys who have no idea who I am...) and started typing. Good thing I rushed myself this morning. But now everyone is present and the game of putting out tomorrow's paper can begin.
Fin.
I overslept. If my hotel has taught me anything these past three nights it is the hard truth that waking up early in the morning to go to work is quite difficult when you have no clock. Waking up at five in a panic that you overslept is remarkably easy, but waking up a second time shortly after that is like trying to [insert hurdle too difficult to overcome here] while underwater. Back to the story, I quickly showered, shaved and ran downstairs, stopping briefly to grab a complimentary coffee (Raven's Brew, what a name). On my way out the door the old man that I've grown accustomed to sharing breakfast with in the morning scampered up to me; he had been hosing of the sidwalk in front of the place and he had, for the first time all week, a youthful spark in his eye. When he was within reach he grabbed my arm and cried, "You missed it!" I smiled and asked, "What did I miss?" "For about two hours this morning it stopped raining!" was his reply. Because I was running so late I had already freed myself of his grasp and began walking away, but I smiled and said, "I guess I should start waking up earlier, then." A cheesy reply? Yes. But he nodded vigorously, and besides he's only my old nameless breakfast buddy who tells me the same story each morning...what more is there to say in response to such an outburst?
But that's Ketchikan. The two hours since I've been here that it stopped raining is the current best-moment, despite the fact that I was sleeping. And what was this old guy doing hosing off the sidewalk?! Was he afraid those two hours might have dehydrated the concrete? I'm baffled. The story ends when I arrived here at the paper to find the doors locked and no one here. I slipped in the back entrance (through the actually press room...I got some weird looks from those guys who have no idea who I am...) and started typing. Good thing I rushed myself this morning. But now everyone is present and the game of putting out tomorrow's paper can begin.
Fin.
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