Apparently there are people out there looking for more shite. I guess I'm the guy to give it to ya.
Okay. So where did I leave off?
As I remember it, I was happily working in an industrial supply in Long Island City, selling chain saws, cement mixers, power trowels, and other assorted equipment. You might have read about how I spent my time in some of the other stories. But I knew in me heart that this was not my dream job, this was just a rung on the ladder, a stepping stone, cause I had a plan. A simple plan.
This was my plan: I was going to be an ironworker. Not just any ironworker, but a union ironworker in New York City. (Cool. Yes, I know.)
Okay. So I don't know people who are ironwokers, and although I have a pretty large family, no ironworkers. Now when I finally decided what I wanted to do when I was 32 years old, like a downhill skiier at the Special Olympics, I stood at the top of the mountain. All I needed was a shove in the right direction.
The shove was provided by my wife, who figured that all our years of poverty could be cashed in on in the form of student loans, personal loans, and federal grants. Yes, I was going to school. Not just any school. Only the finest school to advertise welding technology on a poster on the F train. I'm not going to tell you the name of the institute just yet, but I'll give you a few clues. "Once you learn to use a tool, put it in your box, it's yours to keep." Unless it's a welding machine cause them shits expensive.
"Remember we can't call you." Unless you fall behind on your payments at 21% interest, our lawyer sure as fuck will be calling you and everyone you put on your reference sheet you filled out. And your current employer. And the clerk of the district court, to slap a garnishment on your ass so fast your head will spin.
I can describe the school in two words. WORK RELEASE. Yes, I have just gone 11K into debt to get the same education a 19 year old punk from Sunset Park would be court ordered to keep his sweet tender ass off of Rikers Island, only for robbing a liquor store, the real difference being the state is picking up the tab for the felon. Yes, you can say that the New York State Criminal Justice System really knew how to put the Ape in Apex Technical School.
I wouldn't want to use the word ghetto, but when I was in attendance, two instructors were released for taking bribes to give passing grades. Here is how they got caught: the student missed more than the state mandated amount of time and got an automatic failure, even though the instructors were clocking him in for maximum make up hours and passing grades. So when the student found out he wasn't getting his diploma he went straight to the administration with his story. It went like this: "I couldn't fail. Mr. D. said if I bought him McDonalds for lunch every day, I'd pass."
Well I hope he got it supersized cause I told you it got him his walking papers. You just can't make this stuff up.
Anyhow, I stick it out and despite the school's best efforts, I learned to weld. So now I start calling every Ironworking local in the phone book. "Sorry, we're still working off a previous list."
"No, sorry, not this year. I think next year though."
No answer!
Finally, "Yes, we're giving out applications for apprentices in July."
Woohoo! So I spent my 33rd birthday camping out in Long Island City, waiting to get an application. I was 10th in line. My brother Sean gave me his spot cause it was my birthday. Anyhow, to speed this part up a bit, a month later I bought a $3 shirt and went to my interview. Seemed like a nice enough bunch of guys. Still, even after asking, I wasn't exactly sure what it was, what a stone derrickman job description really entailed and why it was ironwork if you installed stone?
A month later I got the letter that I was to start classes the following September. Just one more year. The year comes and goes and I'm still counter jockey at a supply house in Long Island City, read Consideration and Chain). Then I got the letter saying the class I would be attending was bumped to September 2004. One more year to wait. (I know. You feel my pain.)
So I found out about another local giving out applications. I arrived at about three in the morning in which 500 applications were to be given out when I got there that rainy morning. What I saw to describe it best would be picture Second Avenue in the 50s the morning after St. Patrick's when it falls on a Friday. Only the drunks are still here, and throw in some lawn furniture and camping equipment. Now take into consideration that the stock market had recently taken a dive so all those future brokers had to fall back on Plan B. Get a union job. So now there was a line going around the corner, down the block, around the next corner and I found myself a spot in line halfway down the long side of the block. Waiting in the rain the guy in line just behind said his cousin got in the previous year and assured him if he got there by five in the morning he would definately get an application. So we waited. The doors were going to open at nine in the morning. At around 7:30am, the line began to slowly move, edging closer to the first corner. As it went around the corner something strange had happened. There was no one in line ahead of us. It just vanished. Nothing left but abandoned tarps, tents, rain gear and empty beer cans. People started to run around the next corner into the parking lot where about 800 people stood in a giant puddle in front of a closed door. I guess what happened was that the line circled the entire block so when they opened up, the guy at the very end of the line cut to the front, causing a mob rush. The guys who would have made it camping out for hours, if not days, didn't have a chance. I'm not sure what happened next cause I had a feeling something went horribly wrong. I hung out in the parking lot for 10 minutes and left. I just had a feeling those doors would never open for me.
I heard later there was some sort of riot. Put this in the 'couldn't verify' file. If you know what really happened, send me an email to rumours@shitewaterfalls.com, please.
Anyhow by November I got a letter saying class was moved to February 2004 so the story has a happy ending. I'm living the dream. I'm a fifty percent ironworking apprentice in New York City.
