There I go referencing a Talking Heads song with a small alteration. Hey, any chance I get to sneak in a musical reference is a good thing in my book. I don't know on what day this post will officially be foisted upon the world at large because, as I've mentioned before, I'm trying to catch myself up on other posts and I'm about a month and half behind as I write this particular post (does this make sense?). I find myself making decent progress today, however, with some of my "on deck" posts because I'm stuck at home. Why am I stuck at home? Well, boys and girls, grab a piece of floor and I'll tell you a story.
Once upon a time there was a bridge project at Ranchero Road. For months, as commuters drove up and down the Cajon Pass they watched the progress of the road widening efforts and other earth moving to prepare for the coming bridge. Finally, the pylons were created, the iron works were set, and the wooden "false-work" scaffolding was built in preparation for the big day when concrete would be poured and the bridge effort would move forward in earnest. With about a week to go before the said cement was to be poured, workers were sent into the wooden framework to cut rebar on a very blustery day. At around 1:30 on the afternoon of May 5th, the workers used cutting torches to slice the offending rebar; the process of cutting iron rebar with the torch caused sparks to fly in all different directions. Normally, it is pretty cool to watch sparks flare out like a 4th of July sparkler, but this was not an ordinary day, boys and girls, far from it.
Apparently, my young friends, these workers forgot that sparks flying in many directions on a day when the wind was blowing at around 20 to 40 miles per hour could end up being blown into the wooden framework of the bridge. It should really come as no surprise, then, that this did happen. Although I've heard reports that the worker or workers tried to put out the resulting flames, the gusts of wind blowing up from the pass fanned the fire beyond any hope of stopping it. Within ten minutes, a roaring inferno engulfed the bridge. This caused both sides of the freeway to be closed and commuters were sent scrambling to try to find other ways to get around the conflagration; can you spell conflagration (it is a word meaning: "raging fire"). It's too bad someone didn't think of it, but they could have had an amazing hot dog and marshmallow roast.
Yes, I'm being cynically facetious, but it's hard not to be annoyed by the fact that I spent 2 to 2 1/2 hours getting home last night and had to spend the day here at home because of the traffic nightmare I didn't want to face today. On the other hand, I kept myself busy running an errand and doing some laundry while I've worked on prior posts. According to local news reports traffic should be running on both sides of the freeway by tomorrow morning, so I'll be able to go to back to work.
*sigh!* I doubt I'm the first to make this observation, but the set-up is too good to let pass: If nothing else, I guess this can serve as an actual example of what it means when someone says, "He burned his bridge behind him."
Awesome! I actually think I heard audible groans! :)
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