It was a dark and rainy night. No, Really. It WAS a dark and rainy night. I was on an assignment to update transmitter equipment for the Forest Service and I had come down from the site early because of the weather.
I saw lights ahead and then a sign flashing "Bar & Grill". Hell, I didn't want to go back to the motel now anyway, so I pulled in and ran for the door. Taking a short cut, I realized too late that off the path was just mud. Running at a good speed I grabbed the door and sought protection from the downpour. In the winter this was a ski resort so it had a short entry and another door. Well I slid wildly, grabbed the handle of the inner door and went off my feet. My falling pulled the door open and hanging on to the handle for dear life I slid inside feet first and landed on my back. Un-hurt .... other than my pride.
There was complete silence as everyone looked on.
"NOW THERE'S AN ENTRANCE!", someone exclaimed.
To a great deal of applause and laughter I arose. My face bright red I'm sure.
"Come over here! Let me buy you a drink." said a guy standing and waving me over. The usual buzz of the place picked up and returned to normal.
Frankly I was a little miffed. No one asked me if I was O.K. I WAS, ..... but still.
There were 6 or 7 people of various ages around a couple of tables pushed together. An older man with large glasses introduced himself as Bob Arnold, explaining they were counselors at a nearby summer camp for kids trying to pull together their big final event which was a play.
After the usual introductions all around I ordered a pint of whatever that was local and on tap. I sipped my beer and listened. At some point the person next to me, I wasn't sure of the sex, asked what I was doing in this part of the woods. I explained and mentioned I would be around a few more days doing it.
"Hey guys!" It announced in a booming voice, "This dude can probably help us with our lighting problem."
So that's how I got involved.
The next afternoon I left work a little early and drove through the gate at 'Crystal Lake Youth Camp' about 3:00 pm. I was directed to the 'Main Hall' and found Bob.
Bob explained, "About every half hour the light board dims and if we don't shut down most of the stage lights I'm afraid we'll blow a circuit breaker. It's the same setup as last year and we had no problems with it then. Why don't you go up in the light booth with Karen and watch. It's bound to happen any time now."
The light booth was a platform built over the entrance with a stepladder leaning against one side. It was crudely built and cramped. I introduced myself to Karen and explained my why I was there.
"I know, Hi." Was the extent of her reply.
I unfolded a metal chair and sat behind Karen. The light board sat on a long, low counter and consisted of about 20 home use dimmer switches. Orange power cords stretched out to simple lights attached to ceiling beams above the stage. The dimmers emitted an ominous buzzing sound.
(
Welcome to the back country where there are no electrical inspectors.
) I thought.
A few minutes later the dimmers began buzzing loudly, the lights dimmed and Karen frantically shut off most of the lights. Down on the floor there was a lot of groaning mixed with a few curses.
"Wow!" I exclaimed. "That was exciting. What do you think is happening?"
"No idea."
"Anything different from last year? I understand it was O.K. last year."
"Nope."
The kid was a real talker. I pulled my chair up beside her and asked, "Who was it that designed this nightmare. Do you know?"
"A hippie dippie guy that worked for Mr. Arnold last year."
Thus far she had only looked down at the stage. I touched her arm so I could get her attention and asked, "Something
is
changed. There must be. Are any dimmers not working?"
Karen glanced toward me replying, "I have not changed anything at all. It'll be O.K. again in about 5 minutes."
This girl was retarded.... or terribly shy. All I had seen of her so far was long black hair and a big gray sweat shirt.
"We're quitting for the day and leave it to you two to figure it out...... " Bob hollered up to us, "Cripes, I HOPE you can fix it ."
Karen guided me around while double checked everything. We climbed back up into the booth, put all the lights on and waited. She seemed a little less shy as I could get more than monosyllables out of her now. I had observed during our walk around she was about 5' 4", better looking than I first thought, though I had no idea if she was thick or thin because the sweat shirt hung almost to her knees. She DID have a nice butt. I was polite and allowed her to go up the ladder first.
Thinking she was one of the summer camp kids I asked who her consoler was.
"I'm staff. I live near here and have been helping Mr. Arnold summers since high school. In two weeks I'm going to start at State U."
Now more talkative she asked me some questions. Her voice was soft, sort of sultry. The next thing I know I'm telling her my life story. I was up to the divorce last year when the lights went berserk again.
We watched, our hands ready to jump at the dimmers, waiting for smoke to pour out. The lights brightened some but stayed too dim to be normal.
Once again we checked everything but found nothing to corrected the problem. Karen went back up the ladder and I let her go ahead (
for a better view of course
). Just as I put a foot on the ladder I noticed a humming near the front door.
"Just a sec. I want to check something."
Outside the front door was a Pepsi machine. The lights were flickering and the compressor was struggling to run. I grabbed the cord and unplugged it.
"There bright again!" Karen yelled.
Climbing the ladder I told Karen I think the problem may be solved. When I told her what I had done she shrugged her shoulders and said, "Well, we'll see."
We powered all the lights full up and sat back.
This time I ask Karen about herself. She was nervous about registering at U, had struggled with a bad complexion, has over protective parents and didn't find any of the local guys interesting.
Karen fanned her face with a program. It was hot from all the lights, especially up near the ceiling where we were.
"Aren't you hot in that sweat shirt?" I asked.
