6/21/09; Or, The Day I Almost Destroyed Church Property

I'm way behind in posting. About 10 days, as a matter of fact.And, unfortunately for me and my posting habits, I actually have a whole lot to post about. I have, in fact, decided to completely forgo blogging about the Miss Minnesota pageant, because it's actually pretty esoteric for my general readership and would mostly involve me ranting about everything that's wrong with the system that I clearly now understand perfectly as an old, bitter, former queen who thinks everything would be better if anyone just frickin' listened to her. In other words: not that fun to read.

But tales of me trying to destroy things that don't belong to me? Now that would be fun.

Sunday before last, I was on for worship. During the summer, we only have two services. The later one is a traditional worship in the sanctuary, but the earlier one is a drive-in service. Yes, like the movies. In fact, it was originally held at a drive-in theatre until it closed down. We've since moved to parking lots, and we currently set up in a local high school parking lot. We have this giant trailer that hauls the radio equipment, sound board, music stands, pulpit and platform, mics, and everything else we need to broadcast a little church service. Whichever pastor is preaching is responsible for hauling the equipment out to the site and beginning set-up before the volunteers come trickling in.

So I'm hooking up the trailer to the suburban, and something doesn't seem quite right. I've done it plenty of times, but this time it seemed... weird. I fiddled with it for ages, even pulling forward with the trailer attached twice, whacking the hitch and making sure everything was set. In spite of my misgivings, it seemed right. I pulled out and headed towards the site.

I'd gotten just a couple blocks when it became clear that my initial instinct was correct. I hit a bump in the road and I watched the trailer behind me careen wildly, clearly attached only by the safety chains. I slowed down to pull to the side of the (typically very busy) road, and here's where things got bad. As I stopped, the trailer didn't. It snapped its safety chains clear off and sailed past me on the passenger side, making some awful noises as it went. (It's good to mention at this point that the trailer is actually bigger than the suburban itself.) I stopped, the trailer stopped, and I was so panicked that I didn't even panic.

A nice lady pulled next to me and asked if I was okay. I was, so I said so, but then she left, and I realized I had no idea what I was supposed to do next. I got out and surveyed the damage. The driver's side of the trailer had swiped the passenger side of the suburban, knocking the cowcatcher clear off the front of the truck and ripping out a small piece of edging on the truck's wheel well. Speaking of wheels, the fender surrounding the driver's side wheel of the trailer was dinged in so hard that it was rubbing on the tire - that's probably what actually stopped the trailer. The chains were snapped and dangling. And the best part: the upwards of 1,000 pound trailer had its hitch flat on the ground, so there was no way I could lift it up and get it back on the hitch.

I had 45 minutes until the church service started. I was so screwed.

I called the senior pastor; he calmly told me he'd call the custodian. I tried to figure out what I could do, and when I rightly surveyed that I had no options, I turned to run into the nearby hardware store. Just then, these two guys pull up in a minivan and yell, "Hey lady - you need help?"

I was in a pastoral collar, standing next to a trailer with a giant cross on its side, stranded in the right lane. So yes, it's safe to say that I needed help.

They hopped out and went right to work. I quickly learned they spoke next-to-no English, but they were extremely friendly. They immediately started removing the fender from the trailer. Just then, the church custodian showed up. While I was mortified by my ability to ruin but inability to do anything about it, he was totally gracious about the whole thing. The three guys popped the fender off and then went to work on the trailer. The four of us lifted it up and got it back on the hitch with no trouble. We looped the snapped-off safety chains to make it look legal. The two mystery helpers barely paused long enough for me to thank them and shake their hands, and they were gone. I'll never know who they were, and I'm eternally grateful to them.

I hopped back in the truck and the custodian followed me to the parking lot to make sure the hitch was indeed secure. I showed up with 25 minutes before services started, but the lot was already filling and volunteers were milling around. I pulled up and they immediately went to work setting things up, apparently unconcerned with why I may have been late. But two women met me as I hopped out - the parish nurse and another staff member. They heard what had happened because one of our church members actually passed me on the road and mentioned that I might have been having some trouble. (At which point our parish nurse inquired, "Then why didn't you stop and help?") They knew I'd be shook up, so they met me with water, kleenex, open arms, and the instruction to breathe deep.

It's funny, because through the whole thing I was actually quite calm. It really wasn't until I was about a block away from the parking lot that I freaked out. I suddenly realized everything that could have gone wrong: could've been on a hill where the trailer would go careening (the other route to the high school is just such a chance), could've hit another car (usually, that street is packed with vehicles, and it wasn't that morning), could've hit a person (I was right off the sidewalk), could've hit myself (that's a heavy trailer). Even the senior pastor, for all his calm at the time of the call, got panicky when he realized how much could have actually gone wrong.

After keeping it together all morning, I went home and cried. Then I got back in a car, where I least wanted to be (but at least I didn't have a trailer), and drove home. But that's another story.