march, 2012. I was in the Iron Triangle of Richmond, CA. I got a call about a kitchen sink backup for the Richmond Housing Authority. Upon arrival, I find crack being made on the stove in the kitchen by a topless woman with Zebra facepaint, talking some kind of garbage about having "ad-d-d-d-d-dh--h-h-h-DOOO DDEEE!!!!" Well, alrighty then. I snake the line, slap the p-trap back together and there's some guy taking apart a TV, presumably for some recyclable material or another. Because I couldn't resist, I encouraged him to reverse the polarity by plugging the rear projection assembly in backwards without a screen so he could have a movie projector. I have no idea what that would honestly do, but it sounded hazardous enough at the time. As I was clearing my call with dispatch, a 17-ish year old kid come putting up the street on a dying motor scooter. He asked me if I could help get it started for him, but I declined. So he propped it up on the kick stand, finally got it started... with the throttle stuck open. He rocked forward, the kick stand popped up and the rear tire caught traction really fucking quick. Ho Kamakazi'd about 15-20 ft directly into, up, and then over a white sedan. The scooter veered into the street and died again. I thought Wile E Coyote only existed in cartoons. This kid got up, got back on that thing again, started it again, rocked it forward to pop up the kick stand AGAIN... and managed to get going this time. I watched him for about a half of a mile until he hit the train tracks and absolutely biffed again. He got up and decided to walk the scooter without wrecking it a 3rd time. I hung up on dispatch after blubbering out a few syllables trying and failing to communicate I was in bat-shit country. I went home, got very drunk, called in sick the next day with the bottle flu because I just fucking knew that sink backup was going to recur and I'd be god damned if I was going back there just to get high on crack as prep to be slammed into by a motor scooter and a crackhead with a half of a TV.