(type: amazing ... a second person account)

Ed: You may remember "Hawaii Mike" from a previous entry. This guy just seems to attract bad karma sometimes, but he always gives it a run for its money.

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Mike left his Subaru station wagon in a Hilo parking lot one day while he walked to the Subway across the street to grab a sandwich. The trusting Hawaii vibe had apparently gone to his head because he left not only his beloved dog Jymbae in the back seat, but also the car keys in the front. After a few minutes in line Mike noticed a suspicious man with a backpack walk past the car while looking inside, then walk back, open the door, throw his bag in and sit down in the driver's seat. Mike bolted.

He was just able to jump into the car's back seat before the offender backed out. Maybe "backed out" isn't an appropriate description. Mike had spent his first couple of seconds in the car shouting expletives at the driver and alternately kicking at his head and gear-shifting hand. So in this case "backed out" actually means "careened across the lot and smashed into another car." Mike spent another second or two face/hand kicking before the thief managed to get the car into drive and smash into a second parked car, then plummet the wrong way down a one-way street, banging into another car or two along the way and causing pedestrians to dive for safety. The Battle of Subaru was not going well.

So Mike decided to cut his losses and told the man to just stop and let him out. When the car stopped, he pushed Jymbae out into the street and then dove out himself before the wagon peeled away. Mike then proceeded to shout for help, which would certainly have been more effective had Jymbae, in a confused panic, not started to bark, growl and bite Mike in the ass. It took a bit of explaining to the next passerby to make it clear that Jymbae was not the problem.

Mike got one last glimpse of his car as it barreled down a main street, well out of reach. By this time the police were on the case, but as it happens, Hawaii state law prevents law enforcement officers from chasing criminals at high speeds, so apprehending the deranged felon took a bit more time than it otherwise might. But apprehend him they did and Mike's cracked-up Subaru was eventually returned. Let's all hope Mike took some cynicism away from the ordeal. No keys or family members left in the car. Ever.

Posted by Whit at 11:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

(type: amazing ... a first person account)

Ed: The danger in this story may pale in comparison to what's going on in the Middle East these days, but during peace time it's the kind of situation you don't expect to end up in.

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I was a military police officer stationed in Panama for a couple of years during a stint in the US Army. At one point I was deployed to Equador for a special assignment, Military Observer Mission: Equador, Peru (MOMEP). The base there is isolated from the developed cities nearest to it, and all rest and relaxation outings required helicopter lifts over a treacherous range of Andes mountains. We were flying back from one such trip in two black hawk helicopters when they hit a cloud bank about halfway through. It isn't safe to fly through cloud banks in that sort of environment because of the mountains that might be on the other side. We turned around and tried a different valley, but that was also blocked. We then decided to fly back to the city, but were unfortunately surrounded on all sides by that point. Not good.

The pilots decided to land in order to save fuel, then try again once the clouds lifted, and they set down next to a waterfall. We had to use iodine tablets to purify the water and our food supply consisted of half an MRE per person.The climate at that elevation was basically tundra and the little wood we were able to find was soaked through, so we were forced to try to sleep in the choppers. Sleeping sitting up inside a helicopter is almost pointless.

The next day was the fourth of July, and it continued to rain the whole day. That night we shot off pen flares to "celebrate." Again, no sleep. The next day, continued rain. Finally, at about four o'clock in the afternoon the following day the rain broke and the decision was made to leave now, since pilots should not fly on little sleep and no food, and therefore we would just have to wait for rescue if we waited.

The first black hawk lifted off and started down the valley. My helicopter took off and started circling the landing site, and I later found out that we had lost control and nearly crashed. The pilot regained control, however, and we headed home. As our elevation lowered we saw that the other chopper had landed beside a dirt road because of low fuel. As we came into land nearby, we felt a jolt and heard a loud noise. Once on the ground, everyone looked at us in disbelief. I looked up and saw that there were large chunks torn out of the rotor blades -- we had hit a power line on the way down. Usually when that happens the line wraps around the rotor and the helicopter drops like a stone. Two near-death experiences in one day.

The remaining chopper flew in from the base and we went home. I was and still am glad to be alive.

Posted by Whit at 01:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

(type: amazing ... a second person account)

Ed: I'm having trouble getting SB rolling (more on this later), so I'm going ahead with a story that would be better told by the main character if he would ever get around to writing it out for me. It's a story for everyone who wishes they could get their hands on the asshole who stole from them...

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Sometime after college, Mike made the obligatory trip to Europe. He was filling out a form at a post office one day in Spain when he set his wallet down on the table beside him. A couple of minutes later, a young girl rushed into the room and started yelling at him in Spanish (which he doesn't speak). The only phrase that she seemed to be able to deliver in English, and the only one he really needed, was, "Your book! Your book!" His wallet was gone.

Mike rushed out the door, took a quick glance around and saw nothing, so he took off running down the main street in front of him. He didn't get far before noticing a bus pulling to a stop further down the block, so he made a beeline toward it. Once on the bus, he scanned its occupants until his eyes fell on one kid who all but screamed "guilty" -- sweating, panting and not acknowledging the crazy American who had jumped onto the bus and stared everyone down. Mike walked over and faced him. "Give me my wallet," he said. The boy did nothing.

Mike grabbed his arm and pulled him off the bus. They scuffled around a bit before Mike reached into the kid's pocket and pulled a wallet out. He let go of the boy, who bolted away, then looked down at his hand. He had taken the kid's wallet instead. Down on the ground was the second wallet, Mike's. Justice is sweet.

Posted by Whit at 04:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)