Weinercannon

There's nothing quite like a rainy, early morning at a bike shop. Nothing happens for what seems like forever, all you can do is stock tubes, sweep, maybe organize a calf-off and listen to some music. Solomon and I drew the early shift this morning, so the day started the way most rainy mornings do around here.

The Bet.

What time to we get the first customer. Store opens at 8. I say 9:10, Sworas says 8:43.30. An upstanding young gentleman strides in at 8:42 to purchase a tube for his BMX bike. Here's the question though... He arrivedcloser to Solomon's time, but actually paid closer to my time. So who wins?

I say me.

For those of you keeping track of my school life (namely the ones financing it), yesterday was a pretty good one. Our EMS class ran a mass casualty incident, which was sweet. 7 cars all mangled together, 9 victims also mangled together, 8 ems crews arriving at different times and I get chosen to direct the whole mess. What a trip. I froze for a few seconds after we arrived, just stared at the other medic on my crew trying to comprehend what the hell I was supposed to do while 9 proctors stared right back at me... I snapped out of it, got things rolling and everything went smoothly from then on. After it was all over it was quite the feeling to be able to accomplish something bigger than writing some essay or selling a pair of armwarmers(even if it was all pretend).

I'll leave you with this image.
Matt Slaven (the shop's inventory manager and probable calf-off champion) lived in Nebraska for a while, and apparently one of his fondest memories is of the hockey game breaks. The players all file off into the locker rooms and a big dude appears in the middle of the ice with his trusty assistant, a mystery bucket and what looks like a home-made cannon. He then starts randomly firing hot-dogs (wrapped in foil)into the crowd on semi-automatic while his assistant reloads the wienercannon.
Huge fat guy shootin weiners into the drunken hockey crowd.