03.27.2012
My truck broke down outside the Tri-Cities in eastern Washington, one Thursday afternoon in late Fall. Parts ordered arrived Monday, repairs were made Tuesday. Onions scheduled for an overnight delivery were 5 days late.
When I finally pulled in to the warehouse, set among more endless, aromatic onion fields, the receiving manager was visibly upset. As the load was C.O.D., I needed to get the check before unloading commenced. The manager declined, claiming he needed to verify the condition of the produce. I recommended we let the broker decide, headed inside to a nearly empty office, and reached for the phone. Whereupon he strode swiftly up to me and, to my utter astonishment, grabbed me around the waist with one of his massive arms, picked me up like a sack of those onions, and proceeded to stuff me into a supply closet.
As the door was closing, I got my footing and launched a kick at the panel, and hit the deck at a sprint. Out the warehouse bay door, headed back to my truck, I rounded the corner and saw, through teary eyes (remember the surrounding onion fields?) two men swinging open the back doors of the trailer, and one fellow who had climbed up the ladder on the drivers' side of the truck and opened the door.
Where he met Kilo, who hurled all of his 65 pounds straight at the intruder's chest, knocking him to the ground and pinning him. I spun to confront my pursuer, who abruptly halted in his tracks. I yelled that I was going to drive that load straight out the gate, open or not, tears from the pungent onions streaming from my blurry eyes. He countered with a threat to call the local authorities, whereupon I chimed in that if he didn't call them, I certainly would. From outside the gate.
But with the appearance of Kilo, the tables had turned. I did get that check, and took it to a very understanding truckdriver-turned-truckstop-owner, who listened to my tale, including my suspicion that check wouldn't clear. He smiled a Jack-o-lantern grin, held out his giant hand, and vowed that check would clear.
Kilo dined on T-Bone steak that night, rare, just the way he liked it.
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