Another "Lu-UUUU-Cyyy" moment

This just came to me! In '01, I worked for an Event Production company in Detroit. The building had an attached garage/warehouse where we housed our sound equipment, camera equipment and other props. It also became home to one of the owner's motorcycles. This particular owner was on yet another wacky family vacation when the warehouse crew announced a major 'clean out'. A mass email went out to all the employees to get their belongings out of the garage, to avoid damage. The company was also 'home' to a special, li'l guy, who was approximately 45 years old, but had the mentality of a 7 year old, God bless 'em. He was a precious asset to the team. He tried to be helpful and whatnot, per the dynamics of his vocational placement specialist. But, looking back, I doubt he did much more than empty wastebaskets. Anyway, since the owner was out of town at Cedar Point. Or sledding. Or RV-ing. Or snowmobiling, who on earth was going to move his big, monster of a bike? Who, I ask? Who? Our special li'l helper had threatened repeatedly that he was going to move it. He also frequently threatened to touch my boobies, but I rarely took him seriously. There was something about his determination that day that made me think twice about ignoring him.

I, myself, shall move the motorcycle. How hard can it possibly be? I'm freakishly strong for my size. You simply pull the bike off it's kick stand and walk it away, right? Apparently not. I pulled it off the kickstand just fine. It was the 'simply walking away' that had me in a pickle. Being that the bike was approximately 400 tons and the diameter of the handle bars was longer than my actual arm span, basic mathematics would tell you that it simply can't be done. Suffice it to say, I don't know basic mathematics.

In my mind, it was an easy task. But, you can imagine what happened and 3 seconds later the 2-wheeled beast was laying on her side with a shattered mirror & cracked turn signal light. "Hmmm...didn't see that coming", I said when the entire warehouse turned around and looked at me. Heh heh... (cut to me walking sideways, whistling). My special friend felt it was necessary to point, scream and jump up and down on his mangled, little legs. I had half a mind to call his vocational placement specialist that day and make up an alleged boobie- touching incident.

I could go on for another paragraph telling you how I had to spend twice my paycheck on replacing the parts before the boss got back. Or how I wrote him a (hilarious) apology limerick. But, at the end of the day, it's the actual problem that's entertaining to read. Not the resolution.

...and in close, here is the apology limerick from 8 years ago. Just as funny now as it was then. What I find so incredibly humorous about this is that I felt it was appropriate to leave a poem like this. For my boss.

My Apology Poem
By
Leslie B.

There once was a cool chick named Les
She always got into a mess
Though she tried to help out
It just didn't work out
So let's get this off her big chest.

Though you told me not to touch the bike
I thought I was strong like a dyke
I lost all control
The bike started to roll
I feel so bad, please don’t dislike. [me]

I skinned my hand and scraped my hip.
All for your bike, I took a dip.
What broke in flight
Was your turn signal light
I was crying. I couldn't get a grip.

I thought I could do it
I don't mean to boast.
Oh where was John Webb* when I needed him most?

TONE-e, if you weren't at the 'Point', riding the rides
Your bike wouldn't have fallen on one of its sides.
It couldn't have been worse than when Scott crashed the van
And we still love him, 'cause he is the man.

So remember this as you think of me

No matter what, you still love me.......Leslieeeeee!!!!

The End

*(John Webb was/is the warehouse manager)