Arnesto Modesto: The World's Most Ineffectual Time Traveler

Barge Right In

Arkansas River

Outside Webber Falls, Oklahoma

Monday, May 26, 2002

7:35 a.m.

"Do these things always happen so early in the morning? Over." Pete sounded tense over the walkie-talkie.

"A lot of them do. I'm not a big fan of it either, but it does provide more daylight for subsequent rescue operations. Over." Arnesto realized he wasn't helping to ease the tension and added, "Not that they'll need one today."

Pete's shaky voice came back on. "Roger. What was that rattling noise I heard? Over."

Arnesto looked at the cup in his hand. "That's my McSalad Shaker. Too bad these things get discontinued. I guess if it doesn't cause heart disease, Americans won't eat it. Over."

So far, it was a cool morning in Oklahoma, though Arnesto felt the humidity was hurting the taste of his salad. He turned his eyes to the maritime scanner.

"Love is coming," Pete said, watching his own scanner. They both saw the towboat Robert Y. Love approaching from the south.

"Too soon. Stand by." Arnesto understood Pete's eagerness. He felt the same way. But like he explained the night before, being too early wouldn't help. It would only arouse suspicion and raise unanswerable questions. Too many of those and it could be all over. For everyone.

"Still sounds like a question to me," Pete said. "Robert Y. Love. Like, 'Robert, why love?'"

"That's exactly how I remembered it. Alright, cut the chatter, Blocker Two. I am rolling. Stand by, over." Arnesto started up the RV he had rented.

"Roger." Pete started his rented moving truck but sat tight. He wanted to puke.

Arnesto drove up the onramp to I-40 East. Traffic was increasing, but it wasn't an issue, and he merged onto the highway without difficulty.

Pete looked at his walkie-talkie. Shouldn't he have heard something by now? He looked at the scanner but wished he hadn't. The Love was closing in a hurry.

As Arnesto drove under the small overpass by mile marker number 289, he gave the command. "Blocker Two, you are go, over."

Pete dropped the walkie-talkie and scrambled to pick it up. "I don't — I don't know if I can do this." He was practically hyperventilating.

"Pete, all you have to do is park the truck. If you don't, people are going to die. Go. Now!"

Pete switched the vehicle into drive and inched forward. "Roger, on the move." He pressed the accelerator and found himself getting up to highway speed as he merged onto I-40 West.

"I'm about there," Arnesto said. "You must be, too. Remember, just like we practiced. Get to your spot, put on your hazards and block 'em." He made it sound easy. The physical part was easy. It was the mental part that was difficult. In reality, Arnesto was only slightly less nervous than Pete, despite being far more experienced. But he had to sound calm for Pete's sake. Heh, "for Pete's sake." I'll have to tell him that afterward. Surely, he's heard it before though? What am I doing, focus!

Hazards flashing, Arnesto weaved back and forth a little for effect before coming to a stop at an angle before the median. He got out and looked east as he ran to the right side of the road. After a quick check to make sure nobody could pass the RV on the right and run him over, he looked out at the water and saw the Robert Y. Love and the two barges it was pushing upstream.

Pete likewise parked his moving truck at an angle. He looked out the driver's side window and saw traffic approaching from the rear, which didn't help his nerves any. At least they appeared to be slowing down. He waited for the angry honking to start, but it never happened. Arnesto was right; people show odd restraint in unusual situations like this. He was grateful Arnesto had given him the "easy" side. He had a closer on-ramp as well as a smaller shoulder, making it easier to block traffic. "I'm in position," he said.