Rainfall and old guys

I had another small weather assignment today.

I thought it would be no big deal. One or two phone calls, maybe an e-mail and Web site research should get me the info I sought. After all, I had just called the local National Weather Service office -- which is actually in Lake Charles -- on Saturday for somewhat similar climate clatter.

Yet a mere four days later, there is no meteoroligist awaiting my questions on the other side of the same phone number. No, no.

Instead, I reach a 90-something emphysema patient, who I had just woke from a nap -- possibly his last. I, of course, can't confirm any of this, but if YOU heard what I heard you would be in my camp.

Anyway, after the shaking off the initial shock of his voice, I proceeded with my usual statement. I'm a reporter doing a story and here's what I need from you.

I got out my name and newspaper before there was a shuffle. When I asked if I had reached the NWS, there was a click.

Shaken -- but not stirred, obviously -- I double-checked my number, slowly dialed and waited for response.

Seven rings later, Captain Throatclear answered again. The time it took him to answer the second call makes me think I did a good job in letting him get back in his chair only to get up and answer the phone again.

I sent e-mails and phone calls to other NWS personnel and finally got an alternate phone number from the media rep in Fort Worth, Texas. Score.