Still Reporting the Bike Accident

At 130 pm today I called the Philadelphia police and asked to make a statement about the accident on the phone.  They said they would send an officer to take the statement in person because the driver left the scene.  I gave them the address of the 7-story half-block long building where I work.  I waited until 430 pm.  No one came to the door.  There is a receptionist in the lobby till 415 pm.

Yesterday, I called 911 at the scene.  They said three different times they were sending someone.  On the third call, the operator said I was not there.  I did not move from the front of Sovereign Bank at 11th and Market from the time I made the call until 40 minutes later when I left.  I am six feet tall.  I had a bike.  The officer who responded said no one was their.

There is only one bank on that corner.

Tomorrow I am going to call at 845 am when I arrive at my office.  That way there will be eight hours for the police to show up.  I will let you know if thy could not find the building.

Reporting the Bike Accident

After waiting 40 minutes for the Philadelphia Police NOT to show up, I had given up on the reporting the accident.  But my wife said as a matter of justice I should report it.  So I am going to try today.  I am already leaving on the late train for work, so it will be difficult, but she's right.  The guy in the Lincoln SUV ran a red light then ran over the bike.  He would leave the scene with a dead kid in the road.

Now some of you may wonder if I think riding in Philly more dangerous than riding with the rednecks in Southern Lancaster County.

No.

I still prefer Philly to Solanco.  The fat guys in pickup trucks with faded McCain-Palin stickers on their F-150s actually hate people who use two feet of road.

Bike Accident in Phila--No Injury

Today I was supposed to be at the Parent Teachers Organization meeting.  I left work at 420 pm, but my trip was delayed by a Lincoln SUV that ran a red light and ran over the front wheel of my folding bike.  I jumped off the bike seeing that was was running the light and thinking he would not avoid hitting me.

The guy had a vanity plate BY TRIO so I can report the accident.  I called 911 and tried to report it.  I waited at 11th and market for a half hour.  I told the dispatcher I was in front of Sovereign Bank.  I called 20 minutes later, the dispatcher said the police were enroute.  Ten minutes later I called again.  this dispatcher said he would send the supervisor.  He tried to say the police went by and there was no one there.  I had not moved for a half hour.  Ten minutes later I called and said I was leaving for Lancaster.

I am a member of the US Government as a soldier.  I want the government to be there to fix roads and sewers and show up at accidents, but I also know that I am always unhappy when I am subject to the whims of a government agent.  The comedy at 11th and Market made no difference because I was not hurt.  And now if I want to get my bike fixed, I will have to fill out forms with same police department and have to have a judge decide the case when the SUV driver lies about every detail of the incident.

The incident has only cost me an hour and a PTO meeting so far.  I'll find out later how much the bike repair is.

Perpetuating Mediocrity

One of the reasons the motor platoon has such a high pass rate on the PT test is, oddly enough, that the training NCO for our unit is such a stickler for everyone meeting or exceeding the published standard on the test. He fails people who miss the run by ten seconds and who miss the minimum by one pushup or situp. We are a National Guard unit and many active units will allow more slack than we do. But by forcing everyone to meet the standard, eventually everyone really does--except one sergeant. But 98% is very high for any unit and beyond the moon for the National Guard.

But he is not in charge of all training and performance in other areas it is clear how our socialist group both forces us to conform and helps us when we don't. In February, many of us went to the rifle range for two days--one day to zero, one day for qualification. The qualification consists of firing 40 rounds at pop-up targets from 50 to 300 meters distance. To qualify as a marksman, you must hit 23 of 40 targets. To be a sharpshooter or expert requires 33 and 37 hits respectively the first time you fire. If you get less than 23 the first time, no matter how many hits you get the second time you score only as a marksman. But when we were on the range, one soldier scored less than 23 five times. At the end of the day when the people who run the range wanted to go home, this soldier went to position 11 with 40 rounds. At positions 10 and 12 were two range instructors. Miraculously, the soldier who failed to qualify five times hit 40 out of 40. That soldier should have been scored as a Marksman, and hopefully that soldier will have other people who can shoot nearby in a firefight. But the scoring system broke down when a sergeant major showed up. Hearing that a soldier shot 40 of 40, he presented the soldier with a commemorative coin (a standard token for a very good job). So our records indicate this soldier is our top expert marksman. Once the fudging starts, it is hard to stop. Those instructors could not admit they were nailing targets.

Remember Sgt. Oblivious? After he was relieved from his job as a squad leader, he was not formally removed, so he was still squad leader on his soldier's records. So he signed the awards that others rewrote. By putting an electronic signature on these documents, he has proof that he is competent at writing awards when he next comes up for promotion. If the awards were not rewritten his squad members would have suffered. Because they were rewritten, the Army suffers because a thoroughly incompetent soldier has proof he can write awards.

One thing I thought I would get a one-year break from in a war zone is all the gray areas of modern life. But the Army is part of modern life and it is as gray in here as it is on the outside--with an olive drab tinge.

A Letter on a New Yorker Poddcast

Today's Political Scene podcast by the New Yorker magazine has a short letter I wrote about Sarah Palin. You can listen here.  The letter is at about minute 14.
http://www.newyorker.com/online/2011/01/03/110103on_audio_politicalscene

Single Father Deployed to Afghanistan--Read to the End

Another great story about 87th Infantry deployment to Afghanistan and its effect on families.  Read the story to the end.

In NYC for Post Christmas Shopping

What a contrast from last Christmas.  In Iraq last year, Christmas was 90 degrees, sunny, dusty and an extravaganza of food.  Two days later I was on a flight to Al Kut, Baghdad and Balad.

This year Christmas was a calm day at my father-in-law's house near Washington DC.  Christmas night, four of my kids and I drove to Lancaster.  After Church we loaded the car and drove to New York City--actually Trenton, then the rest of the way by train.

The weather was clear for about 20 miles then more and more snow.  We passed six accidents and almost became one ourselves when some slowed to look at other accidents.  After two and a half hours of sliding, we made ti to Trenton station.  Another 90 minutes and we were in Penn Station and on the way to our hotel in Times Square.  The blizzard was howling when we left the subway.  We struggled two blocks to the hotel then checked in.  Even through the snow Times Square was pulsing bright with ads on two-story electronic billboards.  Jacari saw NYC for the first time stepping out of the subway staircase and said, "Awesome!  This is like Hollywood!"

The gym was closed by the time we arrived, but the Crown Plaza has 46 floors so we could run up the stairs and either walk back down (which Lisa did all three times) or take the elevator, which I did two of three times.

We changed and went three blocks to the Marriott Marquis so the kids could ride the glass elevators up to The View--the 60th floor restaurant.  We struggled another couple of blocks and had pizza for dinner.

Today, I am sitting in Starbucks while the kids shop the few vendors who opened on Canal Street.