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I pull my car into my garage fast. Damn, I\u2019m late. We\u2019re required to hose down our suits at least once a week, but I had to do it today after work on account of the egging. Scrubbing egg yolk off my helmet and hosing down the drips inside my suit took time. Then I took my usual shower to end the work day. Denise doesn\u2019t like me coming home smelling like refuse. Not everybody showers after work, but not everyone has a wife, let alone a knockout like Denise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I hustle through my small backyard and hear music, some female singer from yesteryear Denise loves. Adele or Aguilera? I can never remember. Once on the back deck, the smell hits me: beef, onion, and Denise\u2019s famous tomato sauce. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHey, you\u2019re making Bolognese rag\u00f9?\u201d Finally this day getting better. I go through the screen door. Denise is in our kitchen, stirring a pot of sauce, her black hair all dolled up. She\u2019s wearing her yellow summer dress, something usually only worn when we go out somewhere special. \u201cYou look like a million bucks. What\u2019s the occasion?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou\u2019re late,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYeah, sorry, I had to clean up,\u201d I shrug my shoulders in apology. Denise isn\u2019t annoyed, actually she\u2019s smiling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBaby, com\u2019mere,\u201d she says. I walk over. Denise leans in close. She\u2019s wearing perfume and smells lovely. I\u2019m entranced. I extend my lips. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo, you goof, let me smell ya.\u201d She noses my neck and inhales. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat is this, an interrogation? I showered after work, like usual.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
She takes a whiff of the back of my head. \u201cOkay, you\u2019re good, you don\u2019t smell like garbage.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHey, mind the G-word.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI got to get you a nice smelling, but manly shampoo. Not this fake strawberry.\u201d She looks up with large, brown doe eyes. Then moves forward and gives a quick peck on my lips. \u201cMmmuuahh,\u201d she says with a performative kiss. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s up?\u201d It wasn\u2019t usual for Denise to kiss me when I come home from work. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDon\u2019t cha remember? Sullivans are coming over for dinner tonight.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I put my hand over my face. \u201cOoohhh, shit. That\u2019s tonight?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCome on, it\u2019ll be fun. Sasha\u2019s a hoot.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYeah, Sasha\u2019s a lot of laughs, but Chris\u2019s a highfalutin-loan-officer-snob.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cChris is her husband. Ya just gotta play nice with him.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I lean back against the counter. I don\u2019t want to cause a stink, but this puts the kibosh on a nice evening. The last time we hung out with the Sullivans was for drinks at the 4th<\/sup> Avenue Pub. Denise, Sasha and another co-worker had gotten tipsy and laughed for hours. I had to listen to Chris brag about himself and talk golf with the other woman\u2019s husband. Andrew? They completely iced me out of their conversation, so I drank IPAs while watching the Mets lose. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Denise grabs my hands. \u201cDJ, I need more work-friends, for my career.\u201d She says it real sweet like. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOkay, I\u2019ll suffer Chris. For your career.\u201d I swallow hard. It\u2019s understood in our relationship her Career, with a capital C, is paramount, above all things. Everything must be sacrificed on the altar of her Career. Denise is nearly two years in as a Sales Operation Analyst for Palantir Technologies, her dream job. I\u2019m supportive as possible. I even hide my job from people because she\u2019s so worried that her career path would be damaged if people knew what I did for a living. On the rare occasion people ask what\u2019s my occupation, I just say I work for the City. No one ever cares enough to ask more than that. Probably most think I\u2019m a civil servant. I do have misgivings though for not telling my kids what I do. Eventually, I\u2019ll tell them. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Denise lets go of my hands. \u201cGreat,\u201d She stirs the sauce, humming along to the music. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDaddy!\u201d Gus and Maisie run into the kitchen. Gus is wearing a blue polo, his black hair greased back, except for the cowlick tuft of hair poking up on the back of his head. He looks like a five-year-old stockbroker on holiday at the Hamptons. Maisie is wearing a green dress she got last year for her 8th<\/sup> birthday. With her dark hair and eyes she was the spitting image of DeeDee. Denise even calls her Mini-Me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat have we here? Is this young couple joining us for dinner, Denise?\u201d I say. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes, I\u2019m Maisie and this is Se\u00f1or Gus,\u201d Maisie says. Gus stands silently, not making eye contact. Poor little guy. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHow \u2018bout a fist bump, buddy,\u201d I bend down, smiling at him. Gus taps my fist gently with his own. He responds well to sensory-friendly greetings. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Denise grabs Maisie\u2019s hand and they start singing, then dance and twirl across the kitchen. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I frown at Gus. \u201cGirl stuff. Yuck!\u201d I stick out my tongue in mock disgust. Gus does it back perfectly. Dang, I\u2019ve been playing with Gus by having him imitate my expressions and the kid sure has it down today. \u201cIs this Adele?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo, Daddy, it\u2019s Taylor Swift!\u201d Maisie says in disbelief. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShe\u2019s coming to the Clays, DJ. We should get tickets,\u201d Denise says. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGross!\u201d I say. Can this night get any worse?<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGross!\u201d Gus says. <\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n Things could and did get worse. Much later, I sought solace at the bottom of an IPA at Hartley\u2019s, a small pub with an even smaller bar. What a shit show of an evening. Denise and I got inna fight after the Sullivans left. She was upset over the argument I had with Sasha\u2019s dumb husband, Chris. What kind of trash would Chris be? Maybe scum. No, chode, the dirtiest kind of trash. He actually behaved during dinner, but after I guess the moon came up and he couldn\u2019t hold back from transforming into an asshole any longer. Chris laughed when telling us about the loans he had given to people with poor credit and high risks of defaulting. \u2018It\u2019s like we learned nothing from the subprime mortgage crisis in 2008. I\u2019m getting promoted for advancing so many loans.\u2019 Jesus, the 2008 housing bubble burst caused a severe global recession. Who laughs at something like that? Millions of people lost their jobs. My uncle\u2019s construction company went under because no one wanted to build houses afterward. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The moron plowed on, saying it was bullshit insurance companies pulled out of Florida and east coast states. I couldn\u2019t stay silent. I said, \u201cIt\u2019s their prerogative cuz they can\u2019t pay for all the flooding and hurricane disasters year after year. The insurance industry respects climate change.\u201d The fucker tried to argue the weather has always changed over millennia, humans weren\u2019t to blame. Unbelievable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHey, look it\u2019s DJ!\u201d a voice booms in my ear, bringing me back to the pub. It\u2019s one of the guys I invited over to cheer me up, Rodney. He\u2019s a linebacker-sized fireman, with sandy hair and a slightly darker, thick beard. He married my cousin, Mary, three years back. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDJ, wassup, bro?\u201d he sits in the empty chair on my left. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHow\u2019s Mary?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShe\u2019s good. Hey, don\u2019t tell DeeDee, but we\u2019re, ah, trying.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGot it. Top secret. Good fer you, Rodney! You guys will make great parents.\u201d Just then my other invite walks in. He looks nervous until he catches my waving hand. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGlad you came out, Jack. This is Rodney, my cousin-in-law fireman, but don\u2019t hold that against him.\u201d I slide a chair over for Jack. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYeah, it\u2019s a complete accident I\u2019m related to this goon.\u201d Rodney smiles. \u201cNice to meet you.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHi,\u201d Jack pops down in his chair. I wave the bar tender over. Rodney joins me with an IPA, but Jack orders an aqua frescas. I\u2019ve no idea what that is but it comes with a pineapple. Denise likes fruity drinks, too. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou liking the sanitation business?\u201d Rodney nods to Jack. \u201cGonna stick it out?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI dunno. Maybe for awhile,\u201d Jack takes a bite of his pineapple. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIf you quit and decide to become a cop, I could finally answer: what do you get when a cop, a fireman, and a sanitation worker walk into a bar?\u201d Rodney laughs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGet outta here. I\u2019d never invite a cop.\u201d I shove his shoulder. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou\u2019re just jealous cops are called New York\u2019s finest and us firemen are New York\u2019s bravest.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n Rodney nudges me back. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHey, we\u2019re New York\u2019s strongest. Anyone gets outta line and I flash them my badge and these.\u201d I flex. Rodney cracks up. Jack is looking at us like the new kid at school in the wrestling locker room. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh man, Jack, you should keep your job. Everyone wants a \u2014\u201d Rodney smiles. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCity job!\u201d we both call out and high-five each other. This is a running gag between us, and most City-workers really. \u201cMan, the City still takes care of its workers pretty well. We got good healthcare, solid pensions, only takes twenty years on the job to earn them.\u201d Rodney\u2019s right. You\u2019re lucky to have any well-paying job these days, but a city job provides a good life for the average working Joe. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I stick out my pint and we clank our beers. Jack sips his whatever. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHaven\u2019t seen you in months, DJ. Since Christmas, right? Gotta hand it to you for keeping the City going during them snowstorms after. Our worst bunch of them maybe evuh.\u201d In January, we got one of those storms they say we get only every 500 years or so. Except these days it\u2019s every handful of years. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNot a lot of people know, Jack, but the Sanitation Department is in charge of keeping the NYC streets clear of snow. We\u2019re the only uniformed force on Earth that clears trash and snow from the streets.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYeah, I know.\u201d Jack says flatly. \u201cAs if picking up trash isn\u2019t embarrassing enough.\u201d Whoah. Oh no he didn\u2019t. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cEmbarrassing? Remember January, those 18 snowstorms lined up like planes at the Kennedy airport. We plowed 24\/7 for almost a week. Our garages looked as fast and furious as a NASCAR pit crew, checking equipment, tire chains, plows, rotating personnel and whatnot. Keeping all the street main arteries clear each morning is important to the fabric of the city, otherwise no one gets in or out. Emergency vehicles, working people, everyone need us to keep streets clear. So if they didn\u2019t know it before, they knew after we\u2019re vital to the lifeblood of the city. They let us know their appreciation. They cheered us everywhere we went. People bought us coffee on breaks, food in restaurants.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAmen, brother. That\u2019s as true a sermon as I\u2019ve heard. You guys were heroes,\u201d Rodney salutes me with his beer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThanks. You guys, too.\u201d I take a quick peek at Jack. His expression reminds me of a kid that just overheard adults talking about Santa. There\u2019s real wheels turning in his head. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHa. One fire, we couldn\u2019t even get our fire trucks close to because all the snow. Then, the closest hydrant was frozen, and our hoses had cracked. That building was toast, but overall still a success. We brought that fire under control. No one died. It is what it is.\u201d Rodney waves down the bartender. \u201cNext rounds on me, fellas, but first, gotta hit the head.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThanks, big spender. Don\u2019t fall down in the urinal and drown,\u201d I chuckle at him as he walks off with a mock limp like he\u2019s gonna pee his pants. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHey, seriously, I don\u2019t give a shit if you quit or not, but respect the work. Don\u2019t look down on or judge something before you try it. Like Mother Teresa said, I alone cannot change the world, but I can make it better. One person, one gesture, one dumpster, at a time.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n Jack smiles. It\u2019s small, but it\u2019s a start. <\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n For the second day in a row, Jack\u2019s driving my truck. Kid makes me nervous every turn. Right then and there, I swear off ever teaching Gus and Maisie how to drive. It\u2019s been raining since we left the garage at 6 AM this morning, pouring since mid-morning. At lunch break, the HTL reactor automatically shuts down so there\u2019s no fumes. We eat subs in my truck with our helmets off, watch the world through crisscrossing windshield wipers. \u201cThey said Tropical Storm Gloria was supposed to blow right by us, right?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYeah. Dispatch confirmed that this morning,\u201d Jack says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019m used to seeing rats on my route, but they\u2019re out like I\u2019ve never seen em, moving in a frenzy- like ants at a picnic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThis is gonna be a bad one. The rats are fleeing their dens in a mass exodus.\u201d Jack stares like a little kid watching a horror movie. \u201cLet\u2019s hit it.\u201d We ball up our sandwich wrappers, put on our helmets, and get back to our route. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Jacks pumps the brakes as we head to the end of the next alley. I catch myself pushing my foot down as if I can hit the brakes sitting on the passenger side. I can feel gray hairs pop up each time Jack taps the brakes. Where the alley and street meet is a pond. It extends both directions all the way down the street. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s okay. The rain\u2019s causing the street to overflow, not enough drainage to keep up with this downpour. That\u2019s what we call a shallow waste pond. It\u2019s the deep ones you gotta worry about. Just pull up to the street and cross.\u201d Jack looks a little shaky, but nods, gripping the steering wheel. <\/p>\n\n\n\n A call alert pinged in my helmet internal speaker. \u201cYah-lo,\u201d I say. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHey, DJ,\u201d Deedee sounds worried. \u201cThat storm isn\u2019t blowing by like they said. All the schools are closing. Some are already flooded. I\u2019m gonna leave work, pick up Gus and Maisie. LaGuardia Airport and John F. Kennedy are closing. How\u2019s your route?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe rats are out in force, so this is a doozy. Streets are waterlogged. Give the kids a kiss fer me. They\u2019ll probably recall us back to base soon.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBe safe out there, Love.\u201d Deedee hangs up. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDamn, he\u2019s gonna have a hard time with this.\u201d I wince. Jack dons a questioning look. \u201cTruck- display latest photo of Gus.\u201d Gus appears on the windshield. In the pic, he\u2019s laughing and rolling on the couch as I tickle him. \u201cMy son has autism. He\u2019s real sensitive to storms.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cUh, sorry to hear. I get it though.\u201d Jack looks at me directly, maybe for the first time. \u201cI have ADHD. Storms totally freak me out, too.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n On the street in front of us, some guy surfs by on a surfboard tied to a Humvee.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I knock on the dash. \u201cHow about I drive?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Jack looks so relieved. Me, too. <\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n I park my truck in an alley that sits perched on a hill looking down on 5th<\/sup> Avenue. It\u2019s the highest ground we were close to. The Department radioed thirty minutes ago and said all personnel should seek shelter (in this case, stay in your trucks) and await further orders. This was because over 250 schools across New York were inundated by floodwaters. The City wanted to give the school buses a chance to get home first before we all went back. It\u2019s raining harder than I\u2019ve ever seen it in my whole life. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Jack and I listen in silence to the radio announcer. It\u2019s bleak, especially with the sirens outside wailing nonstop. \u2018The National Weather Service in New York City has issued a flash flood warning for Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens. Floods are accumulating due to a low-pressure area that has absorbed the remnants of Tropical Storm Gloria, which has stalled over the New York City area. Heavy rain has fallen, surpassing all recorded amounts for a given hour. In Brooklyn, parts of the borough received eight inches of rain in the last three hours.\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019m trying to process everything. The streets are flooding with water, already a foot or two deep and this downpour ain\u2019t letting up. Stalled and abandoned cars are everywhere. School buses, SUVs, and trucks, are the only moving vehicles left. Most subway routes have been suspended. Flooded basement apartments brought a surge of humanity up with nowhere to go. Several highways closed. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI-95, parts of I-295 will be shutdown,\u201d I say. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHow\u2019d do you know?\u201d Jack\u2019s voice is so high-pitched it\u2019s child-like.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHighways that end in 5 run north-south will close. This storm\u2019s blowing northward. I-80 or 440, interstates ending in 0, run east-west, they\u2019ll stay open. Anything running east-west, 78s another, will remain open to evacuate everyone. People gotta get out of here.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n On 5th<\/sup>, there are so many rats swimming they form little islands as they float by. Anytime a rat island hits something solid, vehicles, signposts, or buildings, rats break off and scurry upwards seeking refuge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou think inside buildings vermin flee as high up as they can go? Like maybe rooftops are covered in them.\u201d Jack\u2019s gone quiet again. I get it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The radio cuts off, replaced by the voice of our base dispatcher. \u201cAll units are cleared to return to base. Repeat: all units return to base. Take the safest routes per your evacuation protocols.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAt last! Hot damn. Let\u2019s go!\u201d I put her in drive and we roll down to 5th<\/sup>. The water looks deep, over two feet, carrying all sorts of debris. \u201cMan, this like a biblical flood.\u201d I pull onto 5th and despite my truck\u2019s size, I feel the water\u2019s pull. I steer around an abandoned maroon family van. There\u2019s other vehicles trying to plow through all this water, SUVs mostly. Hope no one stalls out in this. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s weird we don\u2019t have that many terms for rain, like with trash, ya know? There\u2019s rainfall, precipitation, sprinkles, uh, drizzle.\u201d I catch myself and shut up. I\u2019m rambling. It\u2019d be nice to have someone to talk to, but me thinking out loud is probably not helping Jack. The radio is a source of endless doomscrolling updates. Several building roofs have collapsed. Hopefully not from rats. <\/p>\n\n\n\n We get to the stretch of 5th<\/sup> that runs next to Green-wood Cemetery. The water\u2019s tug on my truck lessens. \u201cFeel that? Green-wood is the highest point in Brooklyn. Shallower water to drive through.\u201d Normally I\u2019m amazed at the nearly two-hundred-year-old architecture and the history of this place. I mean, it was once a Revolutionary War battlefield, but now my thoughts are gloomy. I imagine how all that water is flooding into the graves. Is anything ever brought to the surface? <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou ever see that classic movie, Poltergeist<\/em>?\u201d I peek at Jack. He looks like he is about to snap. I gotta shut up. <\/p>\n\n\n\n We\u2019re blocks from the Prospect Park Zoo. I want to ask Jack if he heard about the sea lion that escaped the Central Park Zoo during a flood years ago, but I bite my tongue. <\/p>\n\n\n\n A call alert pings in my helmet internal speaker. \u201cYah?\u201d I say. I\u2019m so happy to be able to talk to someone. Anyone. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHey, DJ.\u201d Rodney sounds tense. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTruck: relay my helmet audio to the cab speakers.\u201d My audio transfers to the truck\u2019s speakers. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHolding up?\u201d I say.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYeah, just put out a broiler that was hella\u2019 flamin\u2019. Flooded basement\u2014,\u201d Rodney\u2019s voice breaks up with a lot of static. \u201cYou?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHeading back to base. May have to push some cars outta the way to get there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou near Barclays Center, by chance? I know your route is close to there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cJust passed Green-wood so I\u2019m close. Wassup?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c\u2014 bus rear end fell half a level.\u201d Rodney\u2019s audio cuts in and out. \u201c\u2014 bus pulled into a whirlpool, approximate location ground level SE garage ramp.\u201d The static turns into high-pitch feedback. I wince, putting my hands over my helmet where my ears are underneath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDamn that\u2019s loud!\u201d I miss whatever Rodney just said. \u201cWhat\u2019d he say, Jack?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCops are in transit, but none in the vicinity. Imminent emergency. He asked if we can assist a bus at the Barclays Center, it\u2019s sinking into the parking lot.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n We pull into the lake that is now Barclays Center parking lot. My head tilts sideways cuz what I\u2019m looking at doesn\u2019t make sense. The mother of all whirlpools is circling this big ole tour bus. The front of this behemoth bus is tilted up off the ground several feet. Somehow the back is sunk down past street level. It\u2019s bobbing up and down as tons of water pour down around it. The interior lights are on. People stand in the aisles, their bodies swaying. A cat balances on the dash, it\u2019s back arched in fear. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat the hell?\u201d Jack leans forward. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe city\u2019s built on sinking wetlands. We\u2019ve depleted the surface aquifers that took hundreds of years to fill. Now those underground spaces fill with pollution and waste. They\u2019re not as strong. Structures, like this parking lot, collapse. Can\u2019t drive over, truck\u2019s too heavy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat if we surf over?\u201d Jack grins. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHuh?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCook the plastic, but just to a liquid state, then let it congeal. Homemade surfboard.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSurfboard the size of our truck. Hhhmm, not bad, Jack.\u201d I reach under my seat, straining. \u201cLemme see, unh, here it is.\u201d I pull out a bundle of rope. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou have a noose?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cFor teenagers.\u201d I activate the HTL Reactor. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHas anyone ever done this before?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNot to my knowledge. Never know til ya try.\u201d In no time, all the plastic in the hopper melts down to a liquid slurry. I open the hopper. Steam and emissions pour out the back of my truck. \u201cTruck: engage compaction wall.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n My truck pushes out our newborn plastic-Frankenstein.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We both jump outta the truck, racing around it. The water is maybe 2 foot deep, with a strong pull even here towards the whirlpool. I loop one end of the rope around the bar under the bucket. Behind the truck, floats a giant disc of plastic, maybe ten by eighteen feet, maybe a foot thick. Thanks to the whirlpool suction, it\u2019s already ten feet from the truck and picking up speed. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShit!\u201d We book it as fast as we can and both launch ourselves onto the disc. It barely bobs down. Whew. It easily holds our weight. All the plastic colors mixed so it\u2019s this weird purple-gray color. We crawl to all fours. Then carefully stand up. I hold onto the rope like the lifeline it is<\/p>\n\n\n We\u2019re going faster and faster. Our giant surf disc begins to rotate. We\u2019re both crouching, trying to maintain balance. I can\u2019t tell if we\u2019re gonna loop around the bus or smash into it. The spinning and rapids roaring become everything, other than just staying upright. <\/p>\n\n\n\n What the hell were we thinking? We\u2019re about to ram the bus. I yell, \u201cLook out!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I hit something, go airborne, then plunge into the water. I\u2019m sucked down into the darkest blackness like my feet are in cement and the devil has me on a fishing line. It\u2019s louder than Niagara Falls. Things are hitting me. I\u2019m grunting in pain, hearing it distantly, like it\u2019s someone else. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Then I hear and feel in my body: CLUNK! The force dragging me down stops on a dime. All a sudden, it\u2019s quieter. My feet land on something. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I remember my suit\u2019s got a reserve tank of oxygen. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I take a breath. I can\u2019t believe I\u2019m not dead. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cFlashlight, full brightness.\u201d My headlamp shines crazy bright. I\u2019m standing on purple-gray plastic. I couldn\u2019t have been more surprised than if I was standing on the moon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The plastic disc perfectly clogged the hole that caused the whirlpool. Maybe we just invented the world\u2019s biggest drain stopper. <\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n Later in mid-interview, I get carried away when asked what else I saw when I was down there. \u201cA goulash of detritus floating around me. I mean everything, you name it, use your imagination here because lots of it was gross, including dozens of rat bodies. Like a shaken up snow globe of shi\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOkay. Let\u2019s cut to later, after the rescue. Here\u2019s your truck leaving, with Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce hanging out the cab windows.\u201d Jason Ward says. The Jason Ward, lead anchor for WABC-TV! <\/p>\n\n\n\n A video begins to play on the green screen behind us. \u201cThis next bit has become a meme and worldwide sensation. Courtesy of one of our WABC-TV camera drones.\u201d The video zooms in, improbably the sun breaks through the clouds just then. Taylor and Travis wave. I\u2019m driving. Taylor\u2019s cat, Benjamin Button, is patrolling my dashboard. On the back of the bus, Jack stands on the riding steps, blowing a kiss to onlookers with one hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n The interviews go on for weeks, media hounding me like I am some A-Lister. The interviews are cool and all, but pale in comparison to me being on Sesame Street. I met Oscar the freakin\u2019 Grouch! The Department of Sanitation thinks I sound articulate. I get a promotion. Now I spend some of my work time attending school and community events to educate people about our recycling programs. They want to put me on this full-time, but I say nah, I like driving my route. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The funny thing is, I don\u2019t care about all the attention. I\u2019m just happy people learn about our recycling program because of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Today I attend Show-N-Tell for Gus\u2019s class. His homeroom goes bananas when I walk in wearing my sanitation suit. Gus, to my surprise, actually seems proud. Then we take his class on a field trip to Orchard Beach so they can participate in our Coastal Cleanup program. The Department brings in our giant octopus sculpture. Kids collect litter on the beach and deposit it in the octopus. It\u2019s hollow, with steps leading to a giant hole in the top of its head, plus holes along each tentacle to deposit litter. It\u2019s like the world\u2019s grossest reverse pinata. <\/p>\n\n\n\n At the end of the day, Jack, wearing his badge, drives up in my truck with some surprise guests, Travis and Taylor. The kids, volunteers, and beachgoers cheer. Deedee is in the front row with Maisie and a bunch of her co-workers. Sasha unfortunately brought Chris, but even he can\u2019t rain on this parade. I\u2019m over the moon when I hear Taylor sing her new song: \u201cHero En Route\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n![\"Surfing](\"https:\/\/tnf.ola.mybluehost.me\/website_7ac3e820\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/03\/surfing3-1024x482.jpg\")
<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/tnf.ola.mybluehost.me\/website_7ac3e820\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/ticker-tape-lo-res.jpg\")