Tragic case of road-sign rage
A couple of months ago, when our street sign was stolen for the first time, it was all I could do to refrain from writing one of those pathetically self-indulgent, embarrassingly unfunny letters in an attempt to guilt someone (or someone’s parents) into returning the goods.
But now that it has been stolen again, it’s starting to get personal, and I just can’t hold back. So, apologizing in advance for wasting everyone else’s time, here goes:
Thank you so much to the fine folk(s) who, in what I’m sure was just a momentary fit of mean-spirited stupidity, stole the Katie Park Lane street sign right off the post in front of our Old Snowmass neighborhood.
How could you charming pranksters possibly have known that my family was desperately awaiting a special Fed Ex delivery of antivenin that was our last hope in the then 48-hour vigil being waged by my severely arthritic wife and me at the bedside of our poor, one-legged, dyslexic 4-year-old daughter who, only two days before, had been a happy-go-lucky (albeit gimpy) toddler, until she was viciously struck down from behind by the deadly Colorado black garter snake.
Alas, the Fed Ex driver was unable to find our house for over an hour, due to the missing street sign, but sadly, little Sally didn’t last that long. Unfortunately, the shock of it all left my bride of 40 years catatonicly contorted into the shape of a giant human “S.”
Thank goodness for, although little Sally is no more and my wife has been reduced to a part-time exhibit in a traveling Ripley’s Believe It or Not museum, at least I can take comfort in the knowledge that somewhere, probably right here in our idyllic valley, perhaps on the wall of some 17-year-old, acne-covered sack of raging hormones with an unrequited crush on a blonde anorexic cheerleader named “Katie,” or maybe stuck with double-sided tape to that hard-to-fill spot just above Katie’s commode, is our green with white vinyl letters that glow when caught in the headlights street sign.
All right, so I exaggerated a bit about the antidote, little Sally and my wife, but I did see a snake in our yard last summer. And someone did steal our street sign! Twice!
I also admit that that was a very cheap shot I took at 17-year-olds and cheerleaders (even though the latter are typically only slightly less annoying than a mime walking next to you on the Hyman Avenue Mall). But temporary intestinal cynicism is a well-known symptom of road-sign rage, and I believe that it even qualifies as a legal defense, at least in Pitkin County.
To our neighborhood burglars: Please bring the sign back. It’s not the money; it’s the major hassle of having another one produced, so I’ll tell you what I’ll do.
Return the sign to the signpost. Leave a stamped, self-addressed envelope taped to the sign and I’ll send you the cash needed to produce your very own, green and white (or any color combination your greasy heart desires ” sorry, road-sign rage again) Katie Park Lane street sign. Just think about it, you could even have one made with only “Katie” on it, unless of course, your skinny little girlfriend’s middle name happens to be “Park.”
By the way, if there really is a cheerleader named Katie around here, allow me to apologize ” I have no idea who took the sign and I’m not accusing you. Of course, on the other hand, if you did pinch it, please ignore my apology.
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