Phoning It Down, Part II

When I left you all on that literary cliff, say 40 minutes ago, I realized it was something YAB had never done before. In the past, we probably would have just typed out the whole verbose story, all 1,248 words of it. But we’re not against flashbacks – hell, we churned one out in only our fifth post. However, since it has only been about 40 minutes, that would have been a redundant exercise in redundancy. (Heh.)

Back to our story.

First off, I’ve been informed by a loyal reader that a good word for my Roof and Savior would have been “awning.” That makes my phone in much better shape. Phew. Now the awning IS, strangely enough, accessible. By going down one full flight of stairs – half wall between the 2nd and 3rd floors, there is a half wall and a large opening to overlook the parking lot.

Why there wasn’t a half wall on the next floor up is completely baffling. Would have saved me all this trouble.

By sticking your hand out of this opening, you can touch the awning, and like that, the phone is within arm’s reach. But only if you are Shaquille O’Neal. Which I am not.

This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve ever been out climbing on a roof. I nearly gave my parents a heart attack when I did it an Ocean City when I was like 10. I’ve been on the roof of at least 4 different academic and dormitory buildings at William and Mary. And I once watched Lou Jester climb up the side of our high school to retrieve a bouncy ball. Needless to say, I have roofing experience.

Nor would this be the first time I’ve got something stuck in the gutter. You know what is exactly the diameter of a standard rain gutter? A tennis ball. How do I know this? I must have lodged 30 of them in our Robin Hood Drive home during my childhood. You see, we used to play this game where you stand two yards away, toss up the tennis ball and hit it with an aluminum bat. Over our garage was a home run.

Turns out I had warning track power.

And thirdly, I think in the history of YAB, I’ve made it pretty clear that I’m not against swinging wildly from the sides of buildings. The objective just needs to be important enough. In the post, “A Cake Named Goo,” it was to break into my own apartment. And now, it was a cell phone in a gutter. I can’t just leave it there!

It could get hit by a tennis ball!

Waiting for the bare minimum of passing neighbors to be within view, it was time to go. Jumping the half wall, I found myself perched on the crest of the awning, like a gargoyle who just wants it to be the weekend aleadry. Slowly descending the incline (if I said it was a 82 degree angle, would you believe me?), I reached the phone with more ease than expected and scurried back up the roof. The whole mission took about 7 seconds. I should sign up for Special Forces.

Gathering all of my belongings, I victoriously broke through my front door to claim the weekend. Flopping down in the brown chair, I didn’t quite land with full comfort. Something jabbed my left side. Reaching into my pocket, I found proof that I am a complete idiot.

There was the Macy’s gift card all along.