Lesson Eleven: Zoom, Boom, Doom, Gloom

            A fine morning.  A fine breakfast.  A fine day!  Jon felt good as he headed to work.  With his window down, a cool morning breeze tickling his face and the occasional twitter of a bird song following the rules of the Doppler Effect as Jon drove, the morning couldn’t be better.  Jon arrived at work, right on time.  He disarmed the alarm system without any problems.  The building looked clean.  No one was around.  And his coffee was still hot!  Jon whistled as he entered his office.            

            Glancing up at the clock, Jon mentally noted the time.  Five fifty-six ante meridian.  School started at eight ante meridian.  After his 25 minute walk to unlock the school and turn on the lights, Jon would have plenty of time to use the Zamboni on the gym floor.  He’d be out of there long before the PE classes arrived. 

            At 6:35 a.m., Jon finished preparing the building for school.  Opening the Zamboni, he filled it with a cleaning solution for the wood floors in the gym.  He checked the filters, made sure the hoses were tightly attached, checked the pads for cleanliness and disconnected the charger.  Once the machine was filled, Jon drove it down to the gym.

            Jon parked it under the basketball hoop and then swept the floor.  He also scraped up any gum and picked up any clothing and papers that had been left there by the PE class the previous day.  Once he finished that, he was ready to roll.  Jon turned on the Zamboni.  He lowered the squeegee, dropped the pads and turned on the water.  Moving forward, the Zamboni left a fresh, clean path behind it.  Jon glanced back.  He smiled. 

            After 15 minutes of continuous cleaning, Jon glanced at his watch.  It was 7:25 a.m.  His stomach knotted up quicker than a kid trying to tie his shoe because he suddenly realized he only had about 30 minutes left before the PE class started arriving.  Any project started should always be doubled in the projected time one thinks it will take to complete the task.  This was another instance when Jon should have thought about that before he started.  Now he was pushing to finish the job.

            Jon pressed the accelerator a bit harder.  The Zamboni picked up speed.  He would need to move along quickly so he would be out of the way of the incoming PE class.  Jon had about half the gym left to clean.  If he’d figured correctly, by increasing his speed to about double, he should be able to clean the remaining floor in half the time it took on the previous half.  Jon zipped around the corner and headed for the far wall.  As he neared the wall, he slowed a bit and cranked the wheel.  The Zamboni shuddered and a sound like a plastic zipper being pulled reached his ears.  As the Zamboni straightened out, Jon glanced back to see a large chunk of padding on the wall ripped and dangling like a giant hangnail.  Jon cursed under his breath.  He knew rushing the job would cause some kind of disaster.

            As Jon raced along the west wall, the Zamboni just millimeters from the padding, he prepared to turn the next corner, which he did without incident.  Heading along the south wall, one of the two shorter walls in the gym, Jon quickly arrived at the east wall.  Again he cranked the single front wheel which gave him superb maneuverability when it came to small areas.  As he reached the center of the gym, Jon turned and headed west once again.  As he raced across the wide open expanse of wood, Jon focused on the fast approaching west wall.  His eyes intent on the wall and his brain rapidly calculating when and where to turn, Jon failed to notice the loose floor plate that covered the insert for the volleyball poles.  As his front wheel sailed past the plate, the back wheel was, unfortunately, lined up square.  When the weight of the Zamboni crossed the cover, the plate flipped up and sailed like a Frisbee across the room imbedding itself in the plaster wall next to the door.  At the same instant, the back wheel dropped into the hole.  When it did, the front of the Zamboni lifted into the air removing the friction from the front tire and the floor.  The sudden loss of momentum sent Jon over the steering wheel and into the padded wall where he dropped to the floor like a lead weight.  Stunned, Jon looked up.  Ten feet from him the Zamboni reared up like a wild horse as the front wheel spun at several hundred RPM’s.  The accelerator was stuck and a high-pitched whine echoed off of the walls.  Jon’s mind quickly comprehended the situation and realized that if the Zamboni dropped to the floor, he would be paste on the wall.  Quickly his brain motivated his feet to move and he jumped up, though dazed and bruised. 

            Jon ran to the Zamboni and grabbed the accelerator.  He couldn’t budge it.  With a deft movement, Jon flipped open his Leatherman and extracted the flat blade screwdriver.  Quickly inserting it underneath the edge of the accelerator, he desperately tried to release the pedal.  As he put more and more force on the blade, the pedal began to move.  Then, with a loud “pop,” the pedal fell off in his hand, two screws and a spring bouncing off the Zamboni and onto the floor.  Jon cursed under his breath. 

            Jon’s eyes darted quickly over the machine; a beast and potential death-dealing device that hummed with immeasurable energy inches from his body.  Jon noticed the key. 

            Perfect, he thought.  Jon reached for the key.  Twisting it to the off position Jon’s heart sank as it snapped off in his hand.  The Zamboni continued to whine.  Jon leaned over closer to inspect the instrument panel.  There had to be something he could do.  As he leaned, the Zamboni tipped forward.  A squeal emanated from underneath the machine as the front wheel touched the gym floor.  Jon jumped back and the machine lifted back off of the ground.  Jon thought again.  The only other thing he could think to do was remove the battery cables.  He grabbed the waste water tank and attempted to open it since the batteries were located underneath.  The tank was half full, but Jon put all his strength into it.  He slowly opened it until it went beyond the point of balance.  Then it flew backwards to a full open position.  When it did water splashed out of the tank and all over the floor.  The volleyball insert quickly filled with water.  The Zamboni, now lighter, tipped forward throwing Jon between the seat and the steering wheel.  Jon’s added weight took the machine all the way to the floor.  A squeal pealed forth as the front tire burned a black groove into the varnish and the wood floor.  Smoke drifted toward the ceiling.  Jon found himself wedged tightly and struggled to move.  In so doing, he rocked the Zamboni.  The back of the machine grabbed hold of the edge of the volleyball insert and suddenly jumped out of the hole.  The Zamboni raced toward the wall. 

            Jon blindly reached over his head and cranked the wheel to the left.  The Zamboni careened toward the south wall with Jon’s legs flailing off the side of the machine.  His feet bounced along the west wall as the Zamboni raced at full speed toward the far end of the gym.  One of Jon’s shoes caught on a padded wall seam and flew off.  Jon cranked the wheel again and the Zamboni shot to the left and screamed toward the east wall.  At the same instant the beam detectors registered smoke and the fire alarm went off.  Jon’s heart sank and his pant leg caught on the corner of the bleachers.  With enough momentum to pull them down but not enough to remove them, Jon’s pants fluttered in the breeze like a flag at the top of a mast.  His bright green boxers stood out like a sore thumb against the black backdrop of the Zamboni floorboard. 

            Jon continued to circle the gym estimating how close he was to the wall while at the same time struggling to free his trapped torso.  On the fourth pass around the gym, Jon ran over his sneaker.  The Zamboni jumped and Jon’s progress at extricating himself was negated as he dropped back down into a fully wedged position. 

            Moments later the fire department arrived and the senior firefighter named Red along with the principal, Lance rushed to the gym.  Yanking the doors open, their eyes were assaulted by a bright green flash of underwear as Jon sailed past.  Jon’s shoed foot struck Lance in the groin and he dropped to his knees.  Lance’s pants quickly absorbed the water that was streaming from behind the Zamboni.  Red noticed the Zamboni squeegee lying against the far wall where it had flown off during one of Jon’s revolutions around the gym.  Lance struggled to his feet, agony strewn across his face.  As Jon squealed around the far corner of the gym, Red sauntered into the gym ascertaining where best to intercept him.  He stopped a few feet inside the door and waited.  Jon skidded around the northeast corner and headed for Red.  As he raced past, Red reached up and smacked the large red emergency stop button on the machine.  The Zamboni stopped within 10 feet.  The gym went quiet. 

            Jon squirmed and felt the strong arms of Red extricating him from the Zamboni.  Struggling to stand up, Jon regained his balance and then shook himself back into his pants.  Red just looked at him with a quizzical expression.  Lance still had a pained look on his face when he spoke.

            “You okay?”

            “Uh huh.”  Jon fidgeted.

            “What happened?” Lance asked as he reached up to scratch his face.

            “Not sure.  The accelerator stuck after the wheel got stuck in the volleyball insert.  I tried to shut it off but nothing worked.”  Jon glanced across the gym at the accelerator pedal by the far wall.  Red and Lance followed his eyes and focused on the same piece of metal.  “Then I tried to shut it off and got wedged between the seat and steering wheel.  All I could do was try to steer until help came.  Thanks.”

            Red and Lance didn’t say much.  Without speaking, the three of them surveyed the damage.  A large black groove adorned the gym floor in the middle of the basketball key.  Water glistened on the gym floor now a large pond.  Zamboni parts lay in tiny heaps like oversized rat droppings.  Red glanced upwards and noted the smoke had dissipated. 

            “I’ll get a few of our guys to help clean up this water and set up some fans,” Red said to Lance.  Lance thanked him. 

            “I’ll have a couple of my guys check you out Jon.”  Red looked at Jon with pity.  “You could have some serious injuries that aren’t showing up yet.”

            “Okay.  But first I should help clean up.”  Jon’s eyes continued to stay glued to the floor, embarrassment and shame hanging like a weight from his face. 

            “Don’t worry about it,” Lance chimed.  “I’ll call maintenance for some help.  You just let the paramedics check your injuries.”

            Jon shook his head in agreement and turned to follow Red out to the ambulance. Jon stopped and stooped over to tie his shoe.  A flash of green assaulted Lance’s eyes.  The seam on the back of Jon’s pants had ripped wide open allowing his green boxer’s to show through.  

            “Uh, Jon,” Lance started to say. 

“What?”

“Your pants.  Their ripped wide open.”

            Jon reached back and felt the contrast between cotton and polyester.

            “Thanks.  I’ll go home and change.”

            Lance smiled sheepishly and then took out his cell phone to call maintenance.  Jon followed Red back to the ambulance.  After getting thoroughly checked out and finding no injuries other than his pride, Jon went back to his office.  He plopped in his seat and stared at the wall.  He couldn’t believe how his day had started out so perfectly yet had already gone completely downhill.  He reached for his coffee.  At least it was still lukewarm.  Jon finished it off and went out the back door to go home and change his pants.  He glanced at his wristwatch.  9:10 a.m.  He shook his head and reached in his pocket for his car keys.  As he pulled them from his pocket they snagged on the edge of his pants and were torn from his hands.  As they flipped through the air, Jon’s hand shot out to catch them before they hit the ground.  It was too late.  Jon’s mind reeled in horror as he watched them disappear through the grate of the drain in the parking lot.  He stood dumbfounded.  Then, to add insult to injury, Jon looked up.  He was standing next to someone else’s car.  His car was three stalls down.