A couple of us were sitting around the hobby room the other night with a few brews and White Stripes on the player. One of the guys turned all solemn and broke the shocking news – Bob, one of our best buddies and a very accomplished car modeler, had become involved in some very shady activities and needed help. He gave us all the horrifying details. We sat silent, shocked and sickened. We could not believe that one of our best friends would sink so low! It was at a time like this that one has to show the meaning of true friendship. Clearly, what was needed was an ….
We sat and analyzed the situation. We would need to confront him face to face, get him to admit to his problem, repent and then seek help. The best time would be at night, when he would be at his most vulnerable and emotionally unstable – and the sooner the better!
But who would be part of such an intervention? We already had a wealth of expertise in the room. I would be the spokesman, as Bob trusted me and would hopefully listen to me. We also had Ken, who is a psychiatrist and who builds low-riders. Ken works with emotional disorders, is very soft spoken and very likable. We were convinced that Bob’s problem was emotional at this stage and had not yet become a physical dependency. Then we had Jan, our resident racing car modeler, who moonlights as a bouncer in a night club. We figured that he would come in handy if Bob got aggressive and did not want to listen to reason. Dave is a paramedic, who specializes in accident trauma. Naturally, Dave builds emergency vehicles, and we figured that he would be handy to have around if things got really ugly.
We also needed someone who could handle the spiritual side of things, but none of us were qualified in that area. However, Sandy is a youth pastor who we all knew quite well. She has had to deal with some very disturbed teenagers in her time and we figured that she would be ideal for the job. Unfortunately, she does not build models, but at least she has a good taste in music – grunge and heavy metal – so she would be part of the team! I got her on the phone and she said that she would be around in ten minutes.
That left Jerry, who loves building street rods. Jerry is an undertaker by profession. We didn’t think that we would need him in his professional capacity, but we reckoned that he could be our wheel-man.
Sandy arrived just before ten, so we packed up and moved out. We all piled into Jerry’s Buick wagon (black, with a hot V8 under the hood) and set off for Bob’s house. No one spoke. There was a feeling of apprehension in the car. Sandy had conducted a few exorcisms already, but the rest of us were novices, and we really did not know what to expect. We all hoped that it would not be too late to save Bob’s soul.
We arrived at Bob’s place at about ten fifteen and silently made our way to the front door. Jan suggested that we move around the side of the house to Bob’s model room, where he normally hangs out on a Friday night.
The light was on in the model room, a good sign. We carefully pushed the door open a fraction and peered through the opening. There was Bob at his workbench, with his back towards us. Clearly, he had a problem. On the desk in front of him was all the paraphernalia used by people with this type of problem. The air was thick with that curious chemical odour that we knew we were going to find when we got there. I knocked lightly on the doorframe, so as not to startle Bob. He was startled anyway and he spun around, with a frightened and embarrassed look on his face. He hastily tried to cover up the contents of his desktop, but it was fruitless. We had all seen what he’d been busy with and he knew that we were disgusted.
Dave was the first to speak, “Take it easy Bob, we are here to help you”. Tears welled up in Bob’s eyes and he sobbed silently. I had never felt so sorry for someone before, but we had to remain strong, even if it was just for his sake. “Yeah”, I said, “we hear that you have started building model aircraft!”
Until next time …
Look out for each other!