Daily Newsie

Today I had lunch with some reporters from my former place of employment, which means we spent two hours nibbling appetizers and recounting our favorite horror stories between fits of laughter. (One friend has been at the newspaper for less than three months and already has a stock of crazy happenings.) One of the stories that always gets trotted out at gatherings like these is the Fire Hydrant Story, which I shall share with you here:

I had been at the newspaper for only a few months when my editor came lurching out of his office to my desk. He had a story, see, and it was perfect for this new talent. Someone from a nearby town had called in to say that, the night before, a car hit a fire hydrant outside their apartment complex … and no water came out. Therefore, the hydrant was a sham, and Nearby Town Fire Department just put it out there for show without actually hooking it up to the water main. Editor wanted me to check this out.

OK, fine. “Did you get the number of the guy who called?”

“No.”

“Did you at least get his name?”

“No. But I have the address of the fire hydrant, and I want you to go over there and look at it.”

As reason was in short supply around there, it did no good to point out that most fire hydrants don’t spew water when knocked over. My editor bothered me about it all afternoon, so I finally packed up and drove to Nearby Town to look at the stupid thing. I was unsurprised to find the hydrant in question completely unmarked and surrounded by pristine grass — no signs of tire tracks or gouges. It was obvious that this hydrant hadn’t been disturbed, but, ever the vigilant reporter, I tried to find some locals (no luck), knocked on the door of the fire department/city hall (no luck), and called the Nearby Town VFD chief’s cell phone (no luck).

Finally, having exhausted all my options and still seething that my editor didn’t get the source’s name and phone number (the first thing you ask for when someone calls in a tip, by the way), I let him know the story wasn’t going to make. He evenutally dropped it, but not before a coworker asked me if I’d thought to interview the hydrant for its side of the story.

I did eventually return to Nearby Town to pose for a picture with the fire hydrant, but I never did figure out whether it had ever been knocked over. I guess that’s one of those mysteries that shall endure, like why I sometimes feel nostalgic for the newspaper despite all the idiocy that thrives there or whether there are actually any hemlock trees in my other editor’s yard.

P.S. Courtney — once my voice teacher found out that my hair hadn’t been its natural color in years, she asked me to lay off the dye to let her see what I looked like with mouse-brown hair. She was a funny bird and I liked her, so I obliged. And Monica, if I’m having a good hair day tomorrow I’ll snap a self-portrait in the bathroom mirror and post it.