Sconce Troubles

Sconce Troubles

Practical wall fixture doesn't come on in lamp check.

Step one: Check plugged in to right circuit.

Step two: Unplug and replug.

Step three: Track along power cord for damage.

Step four: Jiggle it.

Step five: Jiggle it more.

It works!

Nope, now it's off again.

And crackling?

That's usually not good.

Give it a tentative poke.

Now it's on again and there's an interesting smell...

-Kills power-.

Alert Technical Director standing nearby.

Notify construction electrics.

Pry the thing apart in case it's an easy fix.

Oh look! It was on fire! Awesome.

This is now sufficiently a safety hazard and beyond my skillset.

Show it to Lighting Designer, stick it back on the wall, but not plugged in, for Aesthetics.

The massive downside to meaningful action on climate change is that if global warming is false were left with a clean environment and a sustainable economic model. What a bummer

My weird... Happenchance moments.

So my Dad is visiting this weekend, he usually comes up twice a year. Unfortunately we're right in the Onstage for my first show and I'm working non stop.

Between my matinee Understudy and my evening Onstage I have exactly two and a half hours. It takes half an hour to get home, and half an hour back, leaving an hour and a half to grab supper together.

I decide to take Niagara Stone Road out of NotL, which I 99% of the time avoid like the plague. It has several different speed limit areas, three school zones, stop lights, intersections, residential driveways, flat open fields with huge cross winds, a roundabout, and nonstop tourists trying to get back to the QEW and having no idea how.

On the map it's more direct. In practice, less so. But for whatever reason I decide to try it today.

So I'm stuck behind confused cars going "why the HELL did I go this way?" and everyone's backed up waiting to make left turns at the intersection light in Virgil, and that's when I spot this little guy.

Stunned. Hunkered against the ground. Beak open panting. One eye scrunched shut. Sopping wet in the rain. Dead centre of the roads.

Being completely aggressive when it comes to protecting innocent life, I immediately pull over and storm back into the middle of the streets. You want to go? You're gonna have to go through me.

Cradling the little guy in my gloves, I get him back to the sidewalk, but he's far too wet and dazed to determine how injured he is. Now... The responsible circle of life option would probably have been to stick him in a bush and hope for the best.

But. I also grew up in the heyday of Disney Channel "children adopt an injured wild animal and nurse it back to health". I make a snap decision to get him home and let him rest and warm up. But also fearful that birds can stress out very easily? Well. I'd plucked him from certain death, if he could hold out through the trip home, I'd do my best. Also the NC750X has a built in trunk.

Back at home, a light paper towel dry, some seed and water offerings, and he was bright eyed, suspicious, and flying around the bathroom in no time.

Health apparent and senses restored, the best option seemed to be "put him right back in the area I found him," so Dad shows up and I'm like "No time for food, we're helpin' a birb!!" Sparrow goes in a box and us goes in a truck and truck goes back to Virgil and, welp;

I dunno how to rotate that. Oh well. Better at riding bikes than writing blogs.

Yah for not dead Sparra Warrior!

Unacceptable.

So I'm riding home last night, just after 11pm, and my normal route takes me along the Niagara Parkway to Queenston Heights, site of a massive failed assault by the Americans back in the War of 1812, and resting place of General Isaac Brock. The zone is a giant public park, memorial, and forest full of hiking paths along the Bruce Trail.

Note the 'forest' part.

So it's with some dismay that I notice a camp fire blazing away about 30 yards down one of the path access pull offs.

At first I'm like "not my problem," which is quickly overridden with "of course it fucking is, I'm a Canadian, aren't I?" So I double back and do a slow pass, looking for people.

I don't see anyone, but of course it's dark and in a dark forest. So I park, pop on my hazard lights, and approach the camp, flashlight on and pocket knife out (folded!).

Best case scenario; couple young people having an ignorantly improper marshmallow cook out. As long as they had a water pail or sand or an extinguisher... It's wrong but... Just be careful.

Bad scenario; I get jumped by some cracked up sociopaths and take as many of them with me as I can.

But what I found was worse.

Completely fucking unattended fully ablaze camp fire built with no brush clearance or containment pit in the middle of the hiking path. Surrounded by tall grasses, which embers were being blown into freely. And two deep tire ruts where a vehicle had struggled to get out of the mud when the party ended.

What the ever loving fuck.

At this point a car stops and another guy walks up asking if the fire is mine. Fuck no. He starts kicking it flat, but as you can see from the video, even knocked to coals, the fire would catch wind and pop back to life in seconds.

There was a car sized puddle about twenty feet away, but neither of us had a means to carry the water to the blaze.

So I had to call the fire department.

Who had to suit up and drive over.

To spray down a fire pit.

Firefighters who may have been needed at an actual emergency.

A camp fire that could have sparked a park wide blaze, destroying the historic sites, recreational grounds, wildlife refuge, and millionaire housing.

Why?

I must stress this was a -camp fire-. Whomever had made and left it had made zero effort to douse the blaze, stamp out the embers, or disperse the coals.

There is no "maybe they just did a poor job" or "didn't know better." They had enough knowledge to BUILD the damn thing, they would understand the inherent danger leaving it would cause.

Just... Fucking unacceptable.

Thanks to other random passerby and the respondent fire crew.

You can see the ruts left behind. Just above the car.

PEOPLE. YOU CAN DO BETTER.

My week continues.

So I'm in the pickup with Dad and Garwik and we're driving through downtown St. Catharines. All sorts of stop walks and pedestrian crossings. So when an extended U-Haul truck tries to left turn across the street into a parking lot, it's painfully obvious he can't make the turn with all the beautification and pedestrianation of the area.

But now he can't back out because of impatient drivers slinking past behind him. So he tries to pull in more. And that's when I see the damaged car down the road.

Uhoh.

I hate debris on the road. So I -let me outtttt- and dive out the door to jog over and move the debris.

A nearby young woman asks "is this your car?" as I snap photos for posterity evidence and then chuck all the cheap plastic car shards into a pile.

"Naw," I reply, checking up and down the street. "Just moving this stuff so no other cars get damaged." Her dad was driving the U-Haul, and yes, it had clipped the car trying to pull into the space ahead of it.

Apparently the car had been there all night. I look around for signage, because of the weird white slashes on the road.

As the Google earth cap shows, No Stopping, Loading Zone Only. So this car isn't supposed to be here. But that doesn't change much.

We're debating what to do when we hear "WHAT THE FUCK?!!"

"Found the owner," I quip, gaze falling on a scruffy looking older middle aged man losing his shit as he approaches. "Who did this?!?" He turns to glare at me and the girl.

The girl starts to explain her dad clipped it with a U-Haul truck and this guy starts spewing threats and curses on her, and I'm like "Newp."

I love playing Tanks in MMOs. Getting and focusing a monster's hatred to keep my group safe, surviving the battering blows and walking away victorious... That's a thankless job. So here's my forte IRL.

"Hold on a minute buddy. You're not even supposed to be parked here. This wouldn't have even happened if you had been following the law," I point out in an accusatory tone, stepping in front of the girl and glaring up at him.

He doesn't know what to make of me. "I'm allowed to park here!" he roars. "I live here!" He flails behind him abstractly at the multi level buildings. "I live here, too," the girl challenges, pointing up to her right. "We've already done four loads and you've been here since last night."

"I haven't!" he protested. Keeping his attention on me, I point out "Either way, you're NOT allowed to park here. This is a LOADING ZONE."

"I -WAS- loading!" he declares. "What, exactly?" I challenge incredulously. Can't cram THAT much in a shitty black four door car. "I had GROCERIES!" he states. "Where else was I SUPPOSED to park?!?"

"How about... In your parking spot? Seeing as you 'live here'? So probably have one?"

Now he was zero'd in on me as the biggest threat. I was bluffing out my ass, but it was working. Was he allowed to drop off groceries there? I don't know. But that doesn't excuse him being rude.

"I'm allowed to be here," he seethes.

"This is a TRUCK loading and unloading zone for THESE LOCAL businesses," I jab a finger at the sign. And just to up the ante on his attitude, I lift my phone. "And I'm calling the police."

"Go ahead!" he flails, and storms off. Much to my relief.

I 'understand'. He's panicking. His car is busted. It's partially his fault. He's scared and stressed, and when men get scared and stressed they get angry. Loud and angry solves a lot of problems by scaring them into submission. Beat chest, roar. Girl panic. Pay for car.

Newp.

So I apologise to the dispatcher but explain the situation, and that the one involved party was being aggressive, and I was concerned things might escalate, so could an officer swing by and help keep things civil. No, no injuries. Yes, everyone is here-ish. Details and names and numbers. Someone will be over shortly.

In the meanwhile, the girl's dad, mum, and brother have returned. The U-Haul is parked up the street. He's understandably sheepish. Have their licence and registration ready. He goes off to get those from the rental.

Car guy comes back so I relay the dispatch directions. "That's what I'm DOING," he huffs, slipping into the passenger side. He tries to challenge the family again as he leaves, but I'm more at ease with her other family members there. I hear something along the lines of "I was bringing out suitcases!!" Suitcases out or groceries in, buddy?

A police SUV rolls up, so I approach the passenger side and remain at a distance while the officer does his computer work. He beckons me over.

I recap events, in regards to the incident, the involved parties, and my concern of the situation escalating prompting my call. He takes me details and says he'll call me if he needs more.

I back up, and Car-guy dives into the window to make sure the cop hears HIS side first. Good luck with that.

I go for the moving family, and mention I've got damage photos if they want. Girl says to text her. Oh sshit, I can do that! Amazing technology!

Her people seem to be like 'well this is shitty but life happens.' I apologise for pulling aggro but they seem grateful. "Anyways, this is why people have insurance," she points out. I glance back at the car, some shiny stupid generic American SUV. Cadillac. Isn't that one of the richey boy brands? "Car like this, I'm sure he can afford it," I snort.

"Oh, but," the girl laughs. "This is the replacement car he was givin for totalling his vehicle just last week." ... "And he said his insurance company told him, if he wrecked THIS one, they'd drop him." ....

Well no damn wonder he was losing his shit. Buddy just plain sucks at driving. Or following rules.

Anyways. Good times.

And when they cut your pay/hours/benefits for no reason maybe you can get your XBOX to collectively bargain your employer for you with the help of your PlayStation. Wow! Thanks XBOX!