A few years ago, on Friday the 13th, I was scheduled to drill in Upland on Arrow highway. (Get your kicks on Route 66.) Well, in part of Upland (really unincorporated San Bernardino County) there are two Arrow Highways. I was supposed to meet my drill rig and crew, mobile lab and technician, and geologist at the job site. Everybody got lost and I had to wander around town and gather them all up. So we get started almost two hours late. We were drilling at a convenience store with abandoned underground storage tanks. We were working for a bank that was about to foreclose on the owner, who was in default on his loan. We start drilling and the owner, who the bank neglected to tell we were coming, shows up and threatens us with a shotgun. I call the police on my cell phone and three squad cars come ripping up, red lights and sirens, guns drawn, and get this guy down on the ground on his stomach. I get the bank loan officer on the phone and he convinces the guy to let us drill. The cops take his weapon, issue him a citation, and leave. Then we drill through an unmarked water main. @#$%^&* water everywhere. I can't get a water agency to take responsibility for jurisdiction, so I call 911 and the operator says she will try to help. Well, the police hear the address and three squad cars come ripping up again, red lights and sirens, guns drawn. I say "Hey, guys, it's only water." They leave and I call a plumber who fixes the water line. Now we're hours behind schedule and the drilling is difficult. Upland is at the base of the San Bernardino Mountains and we encounter huge boulders. We finish after dark, button up, and are leaving just as a huge gang fight breaks out in the stret right in front of us -- weapons, the whole nine yards. We just do get out in time. I think to myself "Man, I should have stayed in bed today. I'm never drilling on Friday the 13th again."

 

Hurmmmm. I enjoy 'drilling' on Friday the 13th.