I feel a little bad writing about this because I seem to always be writing about Greg’s errors. I do a lot more stupid things than he does — a lot — but as the chief writer and editor for this site, I avoid documentation of those.
Last night Greg took Eleanor to the park while I headed out for a walk wtih Abe. This was a little after 6 p.m. Both a fire truck and an ambulance raced by while we were outside and stopped in front of a home about a block down the street. We didn’t hear or see what happened, but everything seemed to quiet down after a bit.
About 8 p.m., I sat on the couch reading, and Greg worked at his computer. I heard the growl of large trucks and saw flashing lights pass our front door. Then more lights. Three or four fire trucks passed. What on earth? Were they headed to the house down the street? Why were they showing up more than an hour after the other emergency vehicles?
I had to know what was going on (There’s a reason I became a journalist.). I pulled on sneakers and started in the direction the trucks had gone. A police car cruised by.
One of our neighbors was on his way to the mailbox and mentioned all the noise. I told him I was going to walk through the neighborhood to at least figure out where all the vehicles were headed. He pointed out the helicopter circling to the southeast of our homes. A spotlight shone down from it.
That sent me scurrying back into the house. A search helicopter? What did that mean? Someone armed and dangerous on the loose, perhaps. A frantic hunt for an escaped convict? But that didn’t explain the fire trucks.
In desperation, I posted a message on Facebook to see whether any of my co-workers knew what was going on. I waited. Some sort of large police vehicle that looked like a SWAT truck cruised past our house. By this point, I couldn’t take it anymore. Greg was on the phone and seemed far less curious than me, so I told him I was going to take the car to see what was going on.
As I grabbed my keys, Greg rushed over and said “Wait.”
“What?” I asked.
“I know what this is,” he said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I know what’s going on,” he said.
He dragged me over to the computer and showed me an e-mail that he had received earlier in the day. It said an emergency drill would be conducted at the train tracks near our home. The police and fire departments were running drills to prepare for possible train derailments or crashes.
And when I checked Facebook, sure enough, one of my co-workers had said the same thing. Greg says he got confused because of the earlier emergency at the home in our neighborhood.
But I still don’t understand how he could have forgotten that message. It took six emergency vehicles, a police helicopter and an hour and a half to jar his memory.
This is why I never let him go to the grocery store without a list.