Dignity and Grace Under Fire

Last Edit April 4, 1999

Monday was a good day. I had, I thought completed my quarterly MBOs upon which my quarterly bonus depends. This included last-minute page edits sent to me last minute. These are the internal website pages - you can't see them unless you work for Synopsys. I made the edits.
On Tuesday, I visited SNUG (Synopsys User's Group) in the morning, learning about DSM termites, a great visual image, for those of you technically inclined, and came in to work. SNUG is why I didn't make a mad flight to chase FABIO to Virginia. That and I don't like roller-coasters. With an upset stomach, that would be all I need!
Low and behold, I had not quite gotten a sign-off on my MBOs and my office neighbor was adamant that we get this thing done. He wants his bonus too. He, like me, had already spent it! My G3 awaits my attention.
So I did all that, and edited the web, and fixed art, and was in a tense meeting (no comment) but, success at last. I got sign-off. I was by now doubled over in pain and wanted to be home in bed.
Good. I got to leave.
By 5PM I was home (easy freeway ride thank goodness), an early day since my son has adult school on Tuesdays and Thursdays - trying for a June graduation even though I tell him it is perfectly OK if it takes him to August - since I had originally thought it would take five years, four years and a month or two don't matter.
He is determined.
I must help when they get this way. Whatever they need, Momma gets.
So I took a breather and checked on my e-mail
A few expletives-deleted later, I am frantically sending a group e-mail out to those on the e-mail list I am building (and reminding myself to finish said project).
FABIO IS INJURED!
This is akin to telling me one of my children is hurt! Same adrenaline, heart-stopping reaction. Then you look for something to kill.
The first e-mail said that his face was all bloody and he had hit a goose in the roller coaster.
The coaster hits 73MPH and at that speed I envisioned a broken nose, or worse. Yes, I could feel that pain.
Probably why I didn't change the subject line. I now know to be more careful. But I was upset, to say the least, and it was too late to call his office for an update.
This was the start of 100 e-mails.
People sent links.
I checked the news.
I sent more mail.
I edited the website on the fly.
I was stressed. I was on and off the web for 8 hours.
So my son decided that I would go grocery shopping AFTER he came home from school - and so that is what we did - at 10PM in the pouring rain no less.
I was a zombie until then. Then I made cookies for work (on demand) and ran back to check e-mail. I had links. AP photos.
Horrible!
But they said he was treated and released.
Good.
I got to sleep at 3AM - sedated or not. Now you should know that the medication is to keep my abdomen from acting up not to zone me out. Although it does have that effect. It just wasn't working well. I was too worried.
By morning, I was groggy, feeling yuck, and my son felt as bad so I dragged him off to school while I was in my sweat pants and bra-less under a sweatshirt. And I was barefoot. I hadn't done my hair and it showed. It needed washing.
I kept going back to the web as I began to get ready for work. I edited and added news as I had done all evening and was continuing this process as I stumbled around a cup of decaf. (I know! I know!!)
I was waiting for the AM news to report on the accident (I didn't quite get to the tape recorder in time but I saw) so I stayed home till 9AM. I didn't feel all that well anyway.
Enter the phone.
It's EXTRA! - in San Francisco and they want to get a sound bite from me as the fan club person - my reaction to his injury.
Egad.
They had my name, home address, phone number, where I worked, etc. etc.
I thought fast.
I could meet them at work.
They were faster. They wanted the house.
OK.
I am now wide awake.
I give directions. I madly calculate how long it will take me to clear a room.
There were about five phone calls from these people and in between I was dumping things wholesale into the back bedrooms and dragging out all my Fabio stuff, books, photos, pillow, stand-up, etc., from their various storage locations. No, I do not normally have Fabio photos taped on the patio door. No, I keep his books on a shelf - not stacked up on the table. My photo albums have a shelf unto themselves. My signed and not yet framed photo has a holder it hides in. The pillow belongs in my bedroom. The stand-up also.
Everything on the computer desk went on the kitchen floor. Funny, while shooting photos for the cooking contest, everything went on the floor. Maybe I should just leave it there.
The website was brought up.
Staged. Arranged. Whew!
I also managed a 3-minute shower and attacked my hair. I gave up and wore it up. Aren't scrunchies great?
I skipped the oily sun screen and went for makeup - hide the by now BIG bags under the eyes. Find the mouth.
I chose the green dress. The one he was supposed to see in New York. The one I can't wear to work - too many men appreciated it - my boss included. Oh dear!
Nina called me and with one foot in my pantyhose I answered. I'm a Mom. I'm used to such things.
I was ready- sort of.
I called Fabio's office to check on him - what do I say? I don't want to do the wrong thing. I am support for him, not a hindrance.
They weren't saying anything - keeping it low key. That's what she said.
"That's nice," I said, "but a film crew from EXTRA! is on the way to my house!"
Eric magically appeared on the line. Good. They were back in town. Good sign.
He is fine. Three stitches. A cut on the nose. (Noses bleed a lot.)
Good. My heart can now beat in rhythm and my breathing return to normal.
(I found out from another reporter that the goose hit the car first - why Fabio was not killed or more seriously maimed. He got hit by the already-dead bird as it bounced - the carcass was picked up by park officials later. We call this the "Hand of God". It was not Fabio's time to leave us. Also good. Thank you Lord.)
I now know what I should be careful not to say.
Guidance. I need guidance. Then I can move mountains.
I have been on TV. It's all fake. Black magic. I've just seen the View (hilarious set staging). I was on Jack Parr when I was 13. (Shudder.) I was dragged out everytime the Dean made an appearance while I was in college - scholarship students are required to do these things. So I was not a complete novice to the ways of TV.
So here they come. A field producer (sounds like the CD project) and camera crew - power and mikes and cameras galore and shade screens.
We put me in a chair. Get the mike up my dress. (No - I'll put it up there myself, thank you!) They are moving fast.
15 minutes. From which they need 15 seconds.
This is, by the way, normal. It's called a "B-roll". They shoot stuff and use what they need to fill in holes.
They shot my photos. My website. Me.
Questions time.
They tried to get me to say how awful that he would be scarred (I doubt it) and how he is a "stud" and won't this affect him (No, he is bigger than that. He won't be bothered. We all know he rides dirt bikes. Sometimes without a helmet. I've seen the photos.)
They asked if I was obsessed with him. Not likely - he just ranks second behind my children. He thinks of me as a fan. Good enough for me.
They asked if I stayed home from work because I was upset - well - I wasn't at work yet was I? It was already 11AM. I had taken about as much medication as I could stand. I didn't tell them that.
They used (and I knew they would) the fact I was upset - they cut - "you would be when someone you care about is injured".
They used (ditto the above) "I had to be sedated to sleep" - didn't tell them because I was sick to my stomach and the metal abdomen doesn't like it when I am. Well, I was also upset so it wasn't a lie.
That's OK.
The fan club as a whole is concerned. Check the e-mail traffic.
Then they were off - grabbed the tape from the camera and one group took off while another packed up their stuff.
I gave up on work. (Yes, I got in trouble.)
I needed to sleep.
The medication was getting to me.
I drank water - lots of it - and soda - cans and cans.
I got more e-mail.
And another phone call.
Seems my website went off-line -505 hard error - too much traffic!
"Get it back up!"
They did - just took my e-mail to them authorizing them to do it and another phone call to double-check.
"Keep this site on-line!"
They have my poor Visa number. Just charge me.
My $30/month site is now $170/month. Temporarily.
Yikes.
It will calm down soon and I will reduce it back.
For now.....
I kept adding updates to the site.
Responded to e-mail until 11PM.
I taped EXTRA! And the accident B-roll. (they did not do too badly by him. Eric (his partner) said thank you.) I found out I am one of the women who "feel his pain" and that my house is full of "all things Fabio". Ye Gads. My mother's seen this!
Inside Edition (they were not as nice).
Entertainment Tonight (Duck Fabio!) cute.
The Daily Show. (Different accident B-roll). The "roller coaster ride from hell". Amen.
Leno (boo hiss Jay!) we won't comment on.
I got a call from a reporter this morning at work who was at the scene. He told me about the goose hitting the car first. www.dailypress.com Newport News. Story tomorrow. They will link to the website.
I found out I have AP photos - need to add the credit.
I have e-mail from someone who was riding in the car.
They got showered with debris. A polite way for describing goose guts. Someone else sent me a BMP photo (larger version of the AP photo) - those girls are NOT SMILING - THEY ARE GRIMACING - and covered in goose parts.
Meantime....
The fan club is in an uproar. Fabio fans can turn rabid if you are not nice to our hero.
We feel that all these male announcers need to grow up. They are so damn jealous of Fabio they are behaving like immature spoiled brats. Laughing at what, without divine intervention, could have been a tragic or even fatal accident.
We hate them.
Fabio carried this all off with charm and gracious behavior as we all knew he would. Even bloody and wounded he was gracious and polite as they led him off to be whisked to the hospital.
We expected no less.
He did not disappoint.
He never does.
It's why we love him.

GET BETTER SOON, FABIO! WE LOVE YOU!

Post Script: Fabio is doing well - the bruising has moved to his eyes - on its way to dissipating. His three stitches come out next week. He was concerned that no one else was hurt. And he is concerned that the ride be modified so no one else is ever hurt that way again.
Seems they built the ride next to a lake on the migration path for the geese. Cute.