Construction Chronicles

This is a fictionalized true story (as told by the construction worker himself) about the work and escapades of a construction worker on and off the job.

Chapter Two - The Daniel-Son Project 

At the job site, our meeting area in the morning and at the end of the day was in the dark, dank basement of the fifty three story office building we were working on.  The basement was more like an ice box, if the ice box was damp, and had several science experiments growing in it.  There were so many days the temperature never made it out of the twenties, that I was contemplating moving to Canada.  

It was cold for so long, when we finally got a couple of warm days, it was still in the twenties in the dungeon.  I didn't envy the guys working on the deck of the tower though.  Just imagine being on the twentieth floor of a building with no walls in the dead of winter.  As cold as the basement was, at least there was hardly any wind.  The guys in the tower had to tie everything down because the wind was so bad; some days they couldn't even leave their step ladders open.  They had to close the ladders and lay them down every time they stepped off of them to keep them from being air lifted to the street many floors below.  

I’m a Union Electrician.  An International Union is made up of numerous Local Unions, each with its own specific territory.  Our local also acts as a Hiring Hall.  When the construction project is completed, the worker goes back to his hiring hall and gets sent to the next job that needs workers.

One of the things I like most about my career is not being stuck working at the same place for too long.  Each project is different; one meets and works with different people on every new job.  Of course, after so many years in the business, one can land on a job with some people he worked with before.  That's always cool, running into a friend you worked and hung around with several years earlier.  It would go something like this: "Ray!  What's up man!  I haven't seen you since the stadium job!  How's the wife and kids?"  And he would reply likewise, or all too often he might say, "Man we got divorced six months ago."  The divorce and alcoholism rate is pretty high amongst construction workers.  The running joke is: Your not a true electrician until you have had at least one D.U.I. and a divorce.  Must be something in the "water.”

By the time I made it to our meeting place in front of the gang boxes, Dave was already busting chops with this older plumber nick named Daniel-Son.  He looked Miyagi, Daniel-Sons Sen Say in the movie “The Karate Kid.”  “Your nick name doesn't even make any sense,” said Dave.  I said, “Yea, you look like Miyagi dumb a*s.  Not Daniel-Son.  You plumbers can’t even nick name a person right!”

It's a common practice for construction workers to write all kinds of things on the port o john and temporary bathroom walls.  A fifty three story building requires temporary restrooms to be installed every couple of floors.  Dave and I bashed Daniel-Son on the bathroom walls all over the job.  Every new guy that came to the job was asking, "Whose this Daniel-Son guy?"  In one of the bathrooms Dave wrote all kinds of things.  I wrote, "Confucius say; plumber with name like Daniel-Son must be gay!”  

When Dave and I were working together, it was just prior to Thanksgiving.  If a worker is lucky, and he has a good boss, work days before a holiday can be pretty laid back.  A week or so before Thanksgiving, there was an incident between Dave and I, and Daniel-Son.  Daniel-Son thought he would be cute and tell our boss that we left early for lunch on friday.  “Hey Joe,” Daniel-Son called our boss over to where he was working.  “Hey, what time do you guys break for lunch?”  “Round eleven fifty, why?”  “Oh, I thought you guys took lunch from eleven forty five till twelve forty five; at least thats how long your boys Harry and Dave take for lunch.”  We really didn’t take that long, our lunch “hour” is only thirty minutes, and we don’t get paid for it either.  I said, “Why don’t you mind your own business Daniel-Scum and worry about your own self!”  Dave chimed in, “Why don't you take your gay little scooter for a long ride off a short pier Rat Boy!”  Daniel-Son drove a scooter to work and Dave would always poke fun at him about it.  Joe said, “Play nice boys or I’ll have to give you a time out.”  He knew Daniel-Scum was full of crap too!

The day before the Thanksgiving holiday, Dave and I decided to do something fun; get Daniel-Son back for his comments to our boss.  “Harry, I have a great idea.”  “I know, your just full of them lady.”  “No seriously, lets make a giant rat trap!”  “Yeah, and we can put it in the main sub level crapper!”  “Haha!  I found the perfect thing,”  Dave came back with a big cardboard box that the pipe insulation comes in.  "We'll cut one panel off and that can serve as the wood base of the trap."  "Perfect Dave, I have some solid twelve wire we can strip and bend to make the latch and wire thing that crushes the Daniel-Son, I mean rat!"  We made a 2ft X 4ft giant rat trap.  "Harry, I found some of that rigid foam insulation we can cut into a triangle and spray paint it yellow to make the cheese."  "Sweet. I’ll write, ‘Want some cheese Daniel-Son?’ on the bottom of the trap."  "Dude, it looks totally real.!"  

At the end of the day we hung by the door of the bathroom.  We put the trap in the corner of the main john that the guys use on their way out of the job site.  Every person that came out was laughing their a*s off!  “Ahhaha, you guys are destroying Daniel-Son!  Bet he wishes he never messed with the likes of you electricians,” said this one tin knocker with his lunch box in tow.  “Yea, you know how relentless we can be!  He won’t admit defeat, so were just gonna keep hammerin him.”  The tin knocker said, “You guys are brutal.” 

After having our fun watching the reaction of the guys who saw our “rat trap,” it was time to head home.  I grabbed my lunch cooler and Dave and I made our way up the subterranean parking garage ramp.  I suddenly remembered about the Vegas trip I was supposed to plan.  

“Dave, you've been to Vegas before, right?”  “Sure lady, why do you ask?”  “I told Bridgette I would ask around about finding a good package deal.”  Dave explained, “The wife and I went last spring.  It’s not excruciatingly hot, and because it’s the off season, the prices are a little lower.”  “Well I don't want to wait till next spring.  Is November considered peak season?”  “Not sure.  We used one of those internet services to book our trip.  You know, the ones that bundle airfare and hotel stays?”  “Yeah Yeah, I know the ones you are talking about.”  

“Dave, this is too good to be true!  Look at that,”  There was a dead rat on the floor.  “Theres a dead little Daniel-Son on the floor.”  I spotted some more cardboard in a trash pile in the corner.  Dave said, “What are you doing Lady?”  “Check it out.  I’m making a tombstone for our fallen little soldier.”  I wrote “R.I.P.” on the cardboard and stood it up at the head of the rat.  I took a picture of the poor little fellow.  (I mean the rat, not Daniel-Son)  “I wonder how long that will stay there?”  Dave said with just a hint of sarcasm in his voice,  “C’mon Harry, you know how much they like to clean around here,”  You couldn't mistake the sarcasm in my voice,  “They bust everyones balls about hard hats and safety glasses, meanwhile were constantly tripping over trash!”  Wouldn't you know, that rat and tombstone didn't get cleaned up for weeks! 

Chapter Five - Trucker Heaven



The next morning we all piled into Bridgette's silver sedan.  My old pickup finally died, hence the reason for our trip.  We needed another truck capable of towing our boat. We decided on a Jeep, because it is four wheel drive and Jim said they run forever.  Bridgette always liked Jeeps, which made it a perfect fit.

We left around 10:00 am since it is about a two and a half hour drive from our house.  We were making pretty good time due to the traffic being light, and Bridgette kept the girls busy by singing songs and playing the typical travel games that kids love.

Jessie said, "I spy with my little eye, something red!"  Angelina replied, "Ooh I know,  it's that car beside us.”  "Nope," said Jessie.  Angelina thought Jessie was messing with her. "Are you sure it's red?  I don't see anything else that is red.  Give me a hint."  "I can't, if I gave you a hint it would give it away silly."  I intervened, "C'mon Jess, you gotta help her out, she's a lot younger than you."  "No Dad, that's cheating.  C'mon Angie, take a wild guess."  I jumped in again, "Ok Angie, it's sticky on one side."  "Dad!  No fair, your helping Angie cheat!"  "Life's not fair kid, get used to it, hahaha."  Bridgette said, "Ok girls that's enough of the bickering.  Play something else."  "But Mom, I didn't get to guess yet.  Dad give me one more hint."  "Oh alright, it's on one of the windows."  "Ooh, I know, I know what it is.  It's that sticker thingie on the windshield."  "Yay, you got it Angie Wangie!  Good Job.”  Bridgette said, “Now play something else.  Pleaseeee."  It was just then a tractor trailer pulled out right in front of us.  I had to slam on the brakes. Bridgette turned white as a ghost.  I said, “Nice, real professional move.  Where did this idiot get his drivers license?”  I gathered my composure and continued on down the road.

The highway we were on is a two lane highway, one lane each direction.  Every ten miles or so, a passing lane pops up turning the road into a four lane highway.  I guess the extra lanes were built because of the high volume of tractor trailers that travel this road.

About five miles down the road from where the eighteen wheeler cut me off was another stretch of highway with the two mile passing lane.  This area is very hilly farmland which makes it hard for the trucks to maintain the speed limit.  The truck that cut me off was going at least ten miles an hour below the speed limit.

I put the pedal to the metal when we got to the stretch of highway with the passing lane.  Our car was just beyond the rear bumper of the  when he jerked his wheel hard, and the whole trailer part of the Big Rig swung into my lane.  He almost took the front of my car clean off!  I had to jam on the brakes even harder and swerve onto the shoulder to avoid a major accident.  Although it wasn't an accident, it was more like an "on purpose."  Now I was super pissed off.  The fact that I had my wife and kids in the car made me all the more enraged. 

The light was red when we came to the next intersection.  I pulled up beside the cab of the grungy old semi and let my anger take over.  I called the truck driver a few choice words, and he returned a few likewise, as he began climbing out of his cab.  Luckily for me, the light turned green and I gunned it again.  I don't know how the truck driver did it, but he was on my tailgate lickidy split.  When I say he was on my tailgate, he was ON my tailgate.

When I looked in the rear view mirror, all I could see was tractor trailer.  I said to the wife, "I think I cursed out the wrong person,"  This guy was in a complete rage.  He was so close to my bumper I could see him yelling and screaming at me as if I could hear him.  He looked totally nuts.  "How is he keeping up with us?"  Bridgette said, "I don't know, but he's trying to get up next to us.  Do something!  He's gonna push us into oncoming traffic!"  "Not if I can help it lady,"  I tried disguising just how scared I was in an effort not to worry the kids.  "This crazy b*****d is trying to get up beside us ON THE SHOULDER!"

Let's just call the truck Christine, for lack of a better word.  Christine would swerve to the shoulder, then I to the shoulder.  Christine would swerve into the oncoming lane, I'd swerve into the oncoming lane.  I had to, or else he would push us into oncoming traffic, or slam us against the guard rail.  I was in shock.  I think we were all in shock.  And scared to death.  This guy was trying to kill us!  Finally we came to a hill steep enough to slow Christine down and I got some distance between us.  The car in front of us had pulled over several miles back to let us pass; a good move on their part.  

The people in that car were giving us thumbs up out of their window, signaling the good job I did fending off Christine as we came to a stop at another red light.  I returned the gesture.  "I can't believe what just happened, can you Bridgette?"  "I have never seen anything like that in all of my life.  I wish I could have gotten that crazy a*****e's license plate number.  He shouldn't be walking the street, let alone driving a giant WEAPON!”  "Tell me about it.  I’m still in shock."  “At least I got the license plate number of that car in front of us,” said Bridgette.  “Maybe my brother in law can look it up and we could ask the people in the car if they got the trucks plate number.  When they pulled over, they got right back on the road behind the truck."  "Wow, good thinking Bridge.  Way to perform under fire."  "Thanks Hun.”

We were sitting at another traffic light trying to recover from the whole frightening ordeal when, guess who, pulls up next to us. CHRISTINE!  "Are you freakin kidding me?  He has us boxed in Bridge."  "Oh s**t, he's getting out of the truck.”  There were cars in front of us, and behind us, and the rig was next to us on the right.  He climbed out of his cab again, this time I got a better look at him.  He was huge!  The trucker came right up to the front passenger side of the car.  He had a scowl on his face, and his eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head.  He started yelling and banging on the windshield over Bridgette's head.  My first instinct was to lure him away from the car.  He started coming around the front of the car.  I put my hand on the door handle to open it.  Bridgette pleaded with me and latched on to my wrist, "Don't you get out of this car."  This guy was so big; I knew I was going to need a running start at him.

"Bridgette, let go!"  It seemed like she had a hold of my wrist with super human strength.  "LET GO!  I gotta get this lunatic away from the car!"  By the time Bridgette let go, and I got the door open, he was right on top of me.  I remember him saying something, but I don't remember what.  We were both throwing punches.  He pushed me, and I was trapped between the open door and the car, which caused me to fall backwards into the car.  While lying on my back, I tried to kick him to get him to back off so I could stand up.  All that did was allow him to grab my ankle and drag me out of the car and onto the ground.  IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HIGHWAY.  He started kicking me on the ground.  I instinctively covered my face with my arms, but not before he chipped a few of my teeth. 

The next thing I knew, he was walking back toward his truck.  "I'm getting my cell phone and calling the cops," he said.  HE SAID!  As I picked myself off the ground I yelled, "Go ahead, call the cops on yourself dumb a*s.  What the F is your problem."  He got in his big rig and drove off.

When I got back in the car I said, "I couldn't call the cops if I wanted to since you broke my phone Bridge.  Great move.  This really sucks.  Just when we really need the phone."  “Sorry Hun, are you ok?"  "No, not really.  Ok is pretty far away from me right now."  I made a left at the light and continued on.  I saw the flashing red and blue lights of a police cruiser coming toward us.  "You see that Bridge, I'm gonna wave him down."  I slowed the car down and started waving my arms wildly out of the window.  The cruiser passed us.  I thought for sure he saw me.

I pulled over to the side of the road and took another look in my rear view mirror.  "Bridge, he's turning around.  Thank God, he's turning around."  The cop pulled up behind us and walked up to my window.  "Good afternoon Sir, what seems to be the problem?"  I was still shook up from what just transpired.  With a shaky voice I said, "I was just assaulted by a truck driver in the middle of the highway, that seems to be a BIG problem for me."  "Oh really?  Do me a favor; pull into street right there and park in the parking lot.  It's safer than here on the side of the highway."  "Sure Officer, no problem."  As I pulled into the parking lot, the cop followed close behind.

He came to my window and asked me to step out of the car.  "Ok, why don't you step out of the car and explain to me why you flagged me down."  My heart started racing again just thinking about the whole nightmare.  "Well Officer, like I said, I was just assaulted by a truck driver in the middle of the highway."  By this time I had realized that a couple of my bottom teeth were chipped off and I had abrasions on my face.  "Ok, can you elaborate, Sir?  How did a truck driver come to assault you in the middle of the highway?"  He said it matter of factly, like he hears this story everyday.  "About ten miles back..."  I told him what happened as best I could remember.  When I get stressed, my memory doesn't work so well; and that's a bad thing when your dealing with a situation that is going to end up in court.

The only thing that I can say about the cops reaction to my story is that he seemed especially interested in the part where I opened my car door.  "Ok Sir, you can get back in your car.  Ask, your wife is it?, if she can step out of the car.  I want to hear her side."  I said ok and told Bridgette he wanted to speak to her.

I turned around to talk to the girls.  Poor things looked scared to death!  "What's going to happen Daddy?  Why is the cop talking to Mom?"  "It's ok girls.  It's the officers job to ask everybody questions.  Probably to see if our stories match up, because guilty people who lie; their stories are different from everybody else's.  Your mother and I didn't do anything wrong, so try not to worry ok?"  Angelina, with a look of relief on her face said, "Ok Daddy."  That girl can always bring a smile to your face, even in the starkest of circumstances.  Her sister was the same way when she was that age.

After speaking with the officer, Bridgette opened the door and plopped herself down in the front seat.  "He wants to talk to you again."  I wasn't expecting him to question me again.  "Really?  Did he say why?"  Bridgette snapped back, "I don't know.  Can you just go talk to him so we can be on our way?"  "Geeze, alright."  Bridgette said, "Thaaank Yoouu."  I got out of the car yet again. "Follow me Sir, I just have to ask you one more thing,"  We walked over to the cop car and stood on the drivers side near the hood.  "When the truck driver was coming around the front of your car; you say you opened your door to get out, is that correct Sir?”  "Yes Officer, that's right, why?"  "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to face the car, spread your legs and arms, and put your hands on the hood of the car."  I thought to myself; Are you freaking kidding me?  I am astonished.  My face suddenly felt red hot.  It was probably beat red.  "What's going on here?  Why am I getting patted down?"  "Ok Sir, turn around and put your hands behind your back and clasp your hands together."  I could NOT believe what was happening.  Like the whole ordeal wasn't enough, now this?

Apparently, the girls could see what was going on because Jessie started yelling out of the window at the cop.  "What are you doing?  My Dad didn't do anything wrong!  The trucker beat my Dad up!"  She was crying, and yelling, and I felt like a total heel.  "Please don't take my Daddy away!"  I tried to comfort her, "Jessie, it's ok.  I just have to go to the police station and pay a fine.  I'll be right back and we'll go get our new truck, ok?  Don't cry honey, I’ll be right back.  By this time Bridgette was out of the car and headed our way.

"Bridge, go to Jimmy's and get him to take you to the police station and bail me out."  She was in as much disbelief as I was.  She said to the cop, "What the hell are you doing Officer?"  "Miss, get back in your vehicle."  "Do as he says Bridge.  No sense both of us going down.  You have to take care of the girls and bail me out.  Go to Jim's Hun."  As the cop put me in the car he read me my rights.  "You have the right to remain silent.  Anything you say, can and will, be used against you in a...….”

To Be Continued….

End of Volume One

Author's Note

This is the first book I ever wrote and I definitely need your feedback. Thanks.

Reviews

[Rachelle]

I am having a difficult time reading the text. Is it the interface? I am new here. 'Have had experience with layout as I've worked as a technical writer and am into web design. You might want to break down your paragraphs because it looks aesthetically-challenging. I am also looking for the other chapters unless these are snippets of your work. I have yet to write anything fictional but from an aesthetic viewpoint, you've got to chop your paragraphs out so that it will be easy for the eyes. Readers like an easy read - that is, not easy words, but something that is visually pleasing. 'Hope you can give me honest feedback once I have something up. Thanks.