Some eyebrow raising incidents happened to me the week of America’s birthday, and none of it was my fault— except when, you know, it was totally my fault.
I accidentally exploded a bag of poppers in front of a fireworks store and a drunk man spit on me when he was trying to articulate a thought. Luckily, those things didn’t happen on the same day, otherwise my face might have melted form the ridiculousness of it all.
I spent that week working on a lot of firework related stories. By a lot, I mean three— I’d say that’s a lot for a week. I wasn’t the only one who thought so. One of the producers at work started singing Katie Perry’s ‘Firework’ song when I walked into work. That was awesome….but neither here nor there.
Anyway, on some sunny day my photographer and I were prerecording a segment about what people could buy other than fireworks to enjoy the Fourth. I decided to get creative and use some of those poppers for the stand-up. I bought a box, but I apparently have too many muscles because when I tried to open it, the bag burst launching all the poppers to the ground.
I yelled. My photographer laughed. Everyone stared. An employee watching form a window came out and brought me another box. I opened that one more carefully and successfully did my job.
One thing has stuck with me, though. The employee said, “I’m glad you’re such a nerd.” I don’t know what that means, but I’m happy she’s happy?
My second misadventure happened during the big municipal Fourth of July celebration.
I was scheduled to do live shots at a park all day.
It was hot, like ‘I wish I had a hair tie’ hot. I always lose piles of those things, apparently, so I didn’t have one.
Anyway, I sitting in the live truck with the door open and my legs hanging out the side.
A drunk old man missing some teeth walked up to the truck and started telling me the history of the station where I work. I’m pretty good at getting away from the crazies, but I was cornered in the car. My co-workers were off somewhere, and I was stuck talking to this smelly drunk until they returned. He spit on my face twice as he continually asked me if I was impressed by his ability to remember history. He wouldn’t leave even though I was making this face the entire time:
I wanted to scrub my face with steel wool. No such luck, though. I had like an hour left at work.
After all was said and done, I dragged myself home, ate my body weight in hamburgers, showered, and went to bed…at 9:30.
I forgot to watch the fireworks, but managed to regain some sanity. I’ll call that a win.