|
Donjbear -> Happy Birthday!!! (8/9/2005 12:58:35 PM)
|
It happened many years ago on my 30th birtday. I was stationed at the Naval Avaition Develoment Center near Philidelphia. It was a slow night, I was second in charge of the evening shift in the aircraft maintenance department. As I pointed out it was my birthday, and the Chief told me to go ahead and take off, and enjoy myself. I thought great, there was a club in NYC that I read about that I wanted to go too. As I was getting ready to leave the senior records keeper told me it would be in my best interests to stick around for a bit.
It was a slow night, the Chief called the various shop surpervisors and said that we would get a basketball game going. Well as I am no longer working, I pulled off my dress shirt, I didn't want to tear it or my ribbons up, and went out to the hanger deck to select teams for the game. The game gets started, and though we are not pro basketballers, we are all type "A" personalities that are playing.
Now I have always been a big man, since leaving High School, the Chief though is more trim and about 6 inches shorter than me. It was bound to happen, the ball got loose and the Chief and I raced across the hanger deck to recover the ball. Now the facility we are at is an old WW2 aircraft factory. In the floor are leveled beams that various tools and fixtures were attached to in order to build the aircraft. The difference between the concrete floor and the beam is barely perceptable. You could run your fingers across it and have a hard time feeling the difference. Well here we are the Chief and myself running shoulder to shoulder each trying to gain the advantage over the other. Then it happened. The basketball hit the beam and stopped. Neither of us could stop in time, I stepped on the basketball, my ankle gave out. They helped me back to the maintenance control center, called for the ambulance and carted me off to the local hospitial.
After the X-rays, came the cast, a few pain pills, then after 3 hours, they sent me back with my broken ankle. The duty driver picked me up at the hospitial, and deliverd me back to maintenance control. Upon arriving there my coworkers and friends were telling me how great the cake and icecream were that the parts supply girl brought in for my birthday, but there was none left for me. So here it is, my 30th birthday, no cake, no icecream, no trip to NYC to check out the Club I read about. Just a broken ankle and a new pair of crutches that would be with me for six months.
|
|
|
|
