It's a Wonderful Party! part 1

Ahhh, 'tis truly the season. I've done all the shopping I can do, I've got all the food ready to go, trimmed the tree, roasted the chestnuts, now what am I forgetting?

Of course, it's you, dear Machinists, and of course I didn't forget. You've been good all year, and you deserve something nice for The Holidays! I mean that literally, this does it for all of the holidays: Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Ramadan, Thanksgiving, Guy Fawkes Day, Boxing Day, Chinese New Year, Flag Day, Arbor Day, Morris Day, your birthday, all of 'em. Creative juices don't just grow on trees. Think of the cleanup.

The good news is that I'm giving you two gifts, or three, if you count a two part gift as 2 gifts. First, I give you the new, improved, and Holiday-themed edition of BallWitness News, a parodic breakdown of recent current events, and then, after the jump, I'm going to tell you the tale of two men who couldn't face the Christmas Day, or one more of any day. Watch the show, then settle down with some hot cocoa and enjoy...It's a Wonderful Party part 1



It was Christmas Eve, 2007, and Henry Smith could tell that it was going to be a long fall into the Raritan River. He had always wondered what it was like for jumpers who changed their minds halfway down. Did they suddenly realize they had hope? If so, did that hope include the possibility of surviving the fall? Henry supposed that that would make it easier.

He took a final look around from his perch at the apex of the Driscoll Bridge, turned his back to the river below, and stretched out his arms. As he leaned his head back, the large, soft snowflakes fell gently on his face, and as they melted, his will to jump melted with them. He was halfway to the water before he realized he'd fallen.


On the Southbound side of the bridge, too far for Henry to have seen through the snow, Hank Jones was working out the logistics for his own final exit. He had planned to jump off the bridge and fire his shotgun as many times as he could before he hit the water. As he loaded the last shell into the shotgun, he took a last look around. The hazard lights from his pickup truck formed amber halos around the falling snowflakes. Hank choked back a tear at the beauty of it.

Far across the bridge, he could see another, distant set of flashing lights. "Toyota, I think...", mused Hank. He squinted against the darkness and the snow, and he could just barely make out a murky silhouette, a figure with arms outstretched. In a bare whisper, Hank uttered, incredulously, "Jesus?..."

Just as the shadowy figure came more into focus, Hank saw it falling back into the night. He exclaimed, "Hey! Watch ou..."

In his excitement, Hank slipped, hit his face on the concrete railing, and continued to fall to the water below. "Son of a..."

He'd knocked two of his teeth out on that railing. How the hell was he going to pay to get that fixed? He really wanted to find out the answer to that, as everything went cold and black.


"Hank!", came the voice through the haze. "Hank, can you hear me?"

Hank opened his eyes slowly, squinting to adjust to the light. He was in a room with gleaming white walls, a white floor, and a white man in white robes was hunched over him, nudging him to wakefulness. The light in the room was blinding, but Hank couldn't determine its source. He tongued the space where his two front teeth had been. Still gone, and very sore.

"Who the hell are you? Get offa me!" , Hank growled. He glared at the robed man. "You didn't try nothin' on me, did ya?"

"Heavens no, Hank, I'm here to help you.", said the kindly old man. Actually, he didn't look much older than Hank, maybe mid-forties, but his hair and beard were pure white. "My name's Noam. I'm your guardian angel."

Guardian angel? Like those beret-wearing freaks in the subways that he'd read about. Was he dead? Was this heaven? The white light was a good sign, but the lack of choirs or gates of any kind muddied the waters.

"You're not dead, Hank, no thanks to you. What on Earth were you doing on that bridge?" Noam asked.

"Well, I was gonna kill myself, but then I saw Jesus and changed my mind, but I slipped...I...I just know that there's no way America's gonna put a Republican back in the White House, and I can't stand the thought of living under a Democrat president.", Hank replied.

Noam gave Hank a pitying look. "Come on, now, Hank, could it really be that bad?" Hanks look said yes, it could. "Hank, we're going to take a trip tonight, and at the end of it, I'm going to show you something. Follow me."

Noam walked out of the room, leaving Hank alone in the white room. He thought about staying there, not sure that this would be a fun trip. Then, he noticed the room was starting to fill with water. There was a gap now between the room and the doorway that told Hank that the room was sinking.

"Come along, Hank, we've a long way to go!", came the voice from the hall. Hank leapt off the couch and climbed up into the hallway, where he saw Noam standing next to a sleek, small train. The train was pointed toward an endless tunnel. Hank turned around to look back at the room, but there was only white floor as far as he could see.

"Man, this better be good.", said Hank as he boarded the train. "Probably a damn commie electric train.", he muttered.

Noam followed him in and closed the door. The train silently sped off into the tunnel, it's powerful headlights slicing at the darkness ahead. The station evaporated into a dissipating cloud of steam in the vast reaches of space.

"This train looks bigger on the inside.", Hank noted. Actually, it was a lot bigger.Hank could see through 3 cars in either direction without seeing the end of the train. "This train have a bar?"

Noam smiled. "I thought you might ask that, This way." Noam led him through several cars, until they arrived at a dining car with an immaculate art-deco bar. There were 2 other men at the bar, as Hank and Noam sidled up.

"Make it a Bud!", Hank said to the taciturn barkeep. He turned to the 2 men and said, "So, what's your story, pal?"

"Well, I'm Henry Smith," said the one man,slim, 30-ish, with dark hair. He motioned to the white-robed man with him. "This, apparently, is my guardian angel, and he claims his name is 'Rush'."


(End of part 1, part 2 is coming soon)