Thursday, December 4, 2008

On finding the dump...and actually dumping

My trash has built up for a month now so the need to take it away was imminent. It has been for a few days, actually, but every morning that I allow myself thirty extra minutes to get to the dump, something's happened and I've had to either speed off to work to catch a breaking story or....sleep an extra 30.

For those who aren't familiar, because I live in the county, I have to use a "dumping station." Basically a big dumpster that people who live out in the middle of BFE (or BFF, if mom were reading this) pay (with their taxes) to have. I hadn't found mine yet but I got directions from someone who knew where my dumping station was.

In true New Mexico fashion, the directions weren't exactly clear. Something about being on the right, before the store, big metal bins on the side of the road. One thing I realized today, there are many, many big metal bins on the side of this road. I mean, many. Many that made me slam on my brakes and wonder if the discolored dumpster was the one I was looking for. The travel trailer next to it and the subsequent junk around it clued me in on the fact this probably wasn't it.

Okay, so maybe the directions were crystal clear but for me and my brain directions are processed and immediately jumbled to the point of non-sensicalness. All I really knew (and understood) was the dumping station was on Hwy. 35. Surely I could handle that.

Apparently not.

I loaded up my seven bags of trash and left the house at 8:10 this morning thinking that this gave me plenty of time to dump the goods and get to work on time.

I drove and I drove.

Good news was I was on Hwy. 35 so I knew it had to be around there somewhere. But I couldn't find it. Thirty minutes (in one direction) I decided to turn around. (YA THINK!?!) I amaze myself.

I stopped at the little store in the middle of BFE and asked her for directions. She pointed me in the direction of left and said I'd stay on that road for 2.5 miles, something to do with an A-frame house, a chainlink fence would be around it, if I made it to the Mormon church I'd gone too far and it opened at 9. All very good information.

Information that my mind wadded up and threw in my face.

I drove the 2.5 miles, which, conveniently was in the direction of my house.

I passed a chain link fence surrounding a brick building, propane tank, and some other stuff. It didn't look like a dumping station to me but hey, the chain link fence part was right (but why did it have "high voltage" signs on the fence. whatever) I turned around and pulled in front of the locked gate. It was 8:45.

I pulled out my trusty new Blackberry and proceeded to make it to level 13 on the stupid-game-that-I'm-addicted-to. At 9 the gate hadn't opened, I hadn't seen a soul and was beginning to wander (aloud) why I didn't see dumpsters.

This must not be it.

I continued driving. Ahhhh, I saw someone sorting trash into bins on my lefthand side. That MUST be it.

And it was.

I followed the attendent's directions, backed my car up to the dumpster and tossed my trashbags in.

Ya'll, I drove past that sucker three times. And it's 5 miles from my house.

So by the time my morning tootle finding the dump station was over, an hour had passed and I proceeded to work.

I passed a sheriff's deputy car headed in the opposite direction. Not too strange.

Then another and another and another. Then two more. And an ambulance. Now that's a little ridiculous.

I called the sheriff's department and was informed that there had been a shooting and they weren't sure if it was "accidental or intentional." I turned around.

A picture was all I was after. So I drove back in the direction of my house, couldn't see any deputies. I stopped someone on the road and asked them. They said the cop cars had gone in the direction of A. I stopped at the corner market and narrowed their location to a certain subdivision, which I proceeded to drive around in for 10 minutes.

Don't let the word subdivision fool you. It's basically farm houses and mobile homes on dirt roads that are closer then a 'holler' together.

In the meantime, I called the sheriff guy back and asked where the guys had gone. He "didn't know." Bull-effin-sh*t. Don't lie to me. I wanted to rough him up over the phone but I restrained myself.

An hour and a half later, I was in the office, pictureless and wouldn't you know it, I JUST got the information 45 minutes ago (and partial information at that.)

Here's what happened:

By Holly Wise
Sun-News Bureau Chief
SAN LORENZO — A dispute between a father and son Thursday morning resulted in the son being taken to the hospital with gunshot wound, the Grant County Sheriff’s Department reported.
The investigation was ongoing at press time, but preliminary reports indicated that a father and son were arguing on Century Drive in San Lorenzo. The father reportedly shot a gun at the ground and the bullet hit his son’s foot. The son was transported and admitted to Gila Regional Medical Center.
The Grant County Sheriff’s Department and Gila Regional Medical Center Emergency Medical Services responded to the incident.
Identities of the two involved were not released Thursday. More information will be available later today.

Basically, someone was shot while I was driving around looking for a dump and I didn't even hear the gunshot. Are you kidding? Must have been the mountains and the way the sound echoed or something.

Today (and yesterday) I was a total newshound and I loved it.

Now I'm tired.

4 comments:

Brooke said...

dude, you totally said ya'll. not even said it, you typed it. so that means that you had time to read it and you still left it at ya'll. that's too funny! you can take the girl out of the country but you can't take the country out of the girl =)
on a side note, Derby now knows what no means. in fact, she might actually think it's her name! ha!

Mary Zolene said...

In the foot??? That is really crazy!

Kristin said...

Does newshound really translate to "ambulance chaser"?

* I can say this because I still have reporter's blood in me.

Life as I know it said...

Yes, Kristin, you're so right! *sheepish smile* Really, being a reporter just means you have an excuse to be nosy. And it's never out of your system!