After a few weeks of relative normalcy in my life, things start happening again. And I am not able to stop them.
As a sidelight, I have decided that when I leave TRW, we should have my going away luncheon at the Camper's Corner bar rather than at the King Eddy Saloon (at 5th and Los Angeles in downtown Los Angeles). The Camper's Corner is a bit away from the street hustle and bustle and is a bit more relaxed.
At 1:30 am I decide that I have had enough and go home. I am fast asleep by 2 am. The alarm goes off at 5:40 am, and seeing that there is nothing left to be accomplished in bed, I get up to do the laundry, go for a bicycle ride, clean the kitchen floor, watch the Japanese Grand Prix qualifying, and mow the lawn. (I cannot help but feel that Eddie Irvine will not START the race and it almost looks to happen during qualifying as he crashes heavily into a barrier but is uninjured. We'll see how my premonition is this time.) By 1 pm I am tired and manage a brief nap. I wake up and seeing that there is nothing left to accomplish in bed or out, I go to work at TRW.
I get to the West End club, order a diet Coke, and take a seat along a railing. They are playing disco music from the 70's. And now I realize that I am in trouble because my teammate's band, who was written up in the LA Times by the way, play 70's disco music and put on a good show. I hated that music the first time around. At 11:15pm his band, Jungle Boogie, comes on and they play all of the disco songs that I hated. Almost half of the ice hockey team is there and are surprised to see me there (because I usually pass on later night activities). And as each one asks what I think of the band, I hold my truthful "I hated this music the first time around and I still hate it" and reply with a "The band looks fun". The wife of one of the players introduces herself to me and realizes that we have previously met. She is embarrassed and says that I look a lot different with short, non-purple hair and with glasses on. I leave at 12:30 am and am asleep by 2 am.
After another bicycle ride, I sit down to watch the CART race from Fontana, California. After 3 laps a nasty accident occurs, from which the driver walks away unharmed, and I think to myself how crazy these speeds are. As they come back to green flag racing (following the yellow flag to clean up the accident) I turn to Nopester and say "Somebody's going to get killed". Two laps later a worse accident occurs and, after a long delay while the officials provide medical attention to the driver and clean up the track, I hear the words "The chief CART doctor is going along on the helicopter ride for resuscitative efforts" and I turn the television off because I know. And I am scared. And I try not to think about THIS premonition.
I do not pass out Halloween candy this year because, well, I don't know why not. But I don't. I think about going to the Frat House or the Falcon for Sunday night, but I do not. I think about taking my new garden hose and turning it on the Trick-Or-Treaters, but I do not.