KDX Radio In The Post Office

Oh no!  A slip for a registered letter. 

This has got to be awful.  Into the car

with my wife wondering what it is. 

Hitting every single red light.

I live in West Hartford, CT.  The "MAIN"

post office to go - for this kind of thing

is out at the edge of an industrial park in

the middle of a field at the end of a road

over the West Hartford/Newington (home of the ARRL)

line (which is...

really in West Hartford because the line isn't really

there but it SHOULD be.)  Almost no light on in the

parking lot.  It looked closed.  I shuffled up there

up the 40 foot long wheelchair ramp - only to find

that the main lobby had people emptying into the

almost main lobby which is after the almost almost

main lobby where all the weird envelopes and boxes are.

15 customers ahead of me.  One Post Office person handling

it all.  (I do not blame the Post Office person.  I believe they

work very hard.)  3 minutes left to be open.  Line moving forward

.1 miles per hour.  (100 millilines per hour)  My pants are falling

down because I couldn't find my belt because the dog dragged it

away in the middle of the night because a piece of cheese got

stuck in one of the belt holes the night before when a bunch of

stuff fell out of the fridge because the shelf broke.  Fortunately

my pants got caught on the corner of a table and stayed where

they were supposed to be.  I tried to drag the table with me.

Miserable.  Is how I felt.  MISERABLE.  It's too hot in here.  I'm

wearing 3 jackets because it's negative 5 degrees outside.  But

IN HERE it's 77 F.  My head is sweating but it's freezing on the

back of my neck.  It's GOING TOO SLOW.  TOOOOOO SLOW.

The lady in front of me drops her purse on the floor.  THWAP

The tension thickens.  According to my calculations it will take

22.7 more minutes until I get up to the post office clerk.  Suddenly

he disappears to throw a big package into a square hole in the

wall.  I revise my calculations. 

I can't stand it any longer.  I just can't stand it!  I just

can't...

Hey.  What's that in my jacket pocket?  It's a little audio

player/recorder.  I look at it.  The display says 02/02. 

Something.  Something.  Something from LONG AGO.

LONG AGO.  I hit play.  I hear, "...this is Buster Boatrocker..."

It's Low Power Hour number 81! 

I'm saved!  The horrible feelings all go away. 

I start listening.  I may not be able to get Part 15

streaming stations on a Smart Phone, but this is

still really really good!  Buster Boatrocker.  One of

KDX radio's finest, speaking to me right now!

Later, I get the certified letter.  I dropped it on the

ground and lost it because I am listening to LPH # 81

and don't care!  My head has sweated into my back under

the 3 jackets and I don't even care that a gallon of water

is going to eventually freeze on me when I go back outside.

It's LPH #81! 

I don't even care about tripping over the 40 foot wheelchair

ramp!  I try to get in the car but I can't because the gallon

of frozen water/ice stuck to my back is so large it's taking up

too much room.  My wife thinks I have some kind of "back disease."

But I don't.  And I don't care.  Riding in the back seat, ALL IS WELL,

thanks to Buster Boatrocker!  It's LPH #81!

Bruce, DOGRADOP