Friendly Competition

I’ve been watching a lot of Friends on DVD recently.

Ok, let’s be honest—I’ve gotten through the entire series and am now back on Season 6 because it’s my favorite. Chandler and Monica have just gotten engaged and Rachel kisses Ross, inadvertently stealing her best friend’s thunder…

I’m getting sidetracked.

Saturday, I’ll finally get cable and I won’t have to watch TVD anymore. Oh, the irony of a news reporter not being able to watch the news. What’s worse is I have, thanks to my brother, a ginormous flat screen begging me to watch the latest Bravo shows just sitting there staring at me. It’s cruel and unusual punishment to someone who loves the invention of TV as much as I do.

Anyway, Saturday will come and I will finally be able to get the Friends theme song out of my head. You know the tune…

“Your mother warned you there’d be days like these.”

Well, Mom, today was one of those days.

I woke up to my personal life in flames and a zit above my right eyebrow (the one not protected by my breakage bangs from the view of those watching me in their TV sets). I arrived at work to find fresh gang graffiti in the alley (and other places that I’m not at liberty to disclose) and a whole mess of nothing to report on. I was already set up to go live from a school meeting, but that didn’t start until 4- plenty of time to package whatever came along in the meantime.

First, a fire. In a dumpster. A dumpster fire. You know, the same things homeless people set to keep warm in other parts of the country. We arrived to see firemen scratching their heads, unable to find said fire.

Back to the office.

Next, a construction accident; three people had fallen from scaffolding about 15 feet above ground. At one point, Med-flight was requested. It might make me sound morbid, but this was enough to get excited about because at least it was visual (the three who fell are all okay, by the way). When we got to the scene, though, we weren’t allowed in. Naples has far too many gated communities with crabby rent-a-cops running the show.

Back to the office.

At this point, it’s 1:30, and I’ve been given a freebie for the day to preview the school meeting to wrap my live around. It’s a quick write, and I’m able to follow up on a few reports from the Sheriff’s office, etc. Things are starting to feel a little bit better, and then it’s off to the live shot.

This is when my day started to get really interesting.

My car’s air conditioning is doing this really awesome thing it did the summer I lived in Phoenix—not working properly. It goes back and forth from sort-of cold air to scorching hot air every ten or fifteen seconds. By the time I get to my live shot, I am sweating to the point it’s uncomfortable. Any makeup I had applied prior was now running down my face. In a rush to get out of the greenhoused-Cavalier, I forget the keys are in the ignition and lock it up. To make matters worse, my phone’s battery is now flashing at me as a warning that it’s about to turn off. Mind you, this is all happening as my deadline ticks closer with every second on the clock; soon I’ll have to go on TV sweaty and without any way to communicate with my producer.

I’ve always found it beneficial to befriend the competition when you’re out on stories. It’s how L and I became tight enough for her to help me land this job. Plus, you never know when you’ll need a spare tape, a spray of Aqua-net, or a friendly dial to AAA.

I owe the other affiliate’s reporter a night’s worth of drinks for getting someone to open my car gratis and shedding some sunshine on my otherwise worthless Thursday.

Thank God for friendly competition—there for you when the rain starts to pour… or sweat, in this case.