Yesterday I was lifting a 16 foot plank tied to a rope pulley onto a scaffold five stories off the ground, and the floor fell out from under me, exposing nothing but open air. I grabbed a cross brace on the fourth story, but that's only an inch of hollow aluminum, so I had about four seconds to live. At the last second this guy I work with, Donnie, dove on the bottom of the rope and gave me something else to support my weight on. This was literally the closest I've been to death in my entire life. Why am I telling you this? He's Jamaican.
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