On the rooftops where chimney sweeps and chimney repair service people hang out even the simplest, most innocuous task can turn into a horror show, or at least a comedy of circumstance.  I remember the afternoon in late fall when I went out a sparsely populated rural road to do a simple chimney inspection above the roofline.  No one was home.  It was sunny and dry and house was a low, ranch style with an easy, walkable roof.  How complicated could it be?!
     I went around to the back deck, which provided an even, firm footing for my mini-extension ladder.  I noted that there was a lot of slimy algae on the deck planks, so I set my ladder at an unusually steep angle to keep pressure straight down on the rubber ladder feet to minimize any lateral pressure that could result in a tumble from the ladder feet kicking back out on the slippery algae surface.
   I climbed up to the roof with my tools, light and mirror with no problem.  I was able to look at the chimney easily and observe the bad mortar joints, cracked crown and lack of a raincap.  Pretty routine.  I jotted down some notes and measurements and took a few Polaroid pictures – aah, the old days!  Time to head back down.  As soon as I put my hand and a foot on the top of the ladder, the feet kicked out.  I was barely able to hand onto the ladder and keep my body on the roof, away from midair.  Hmmmmm!  I reset the ladder at a steeper angle, but no matter how I placed it, it continued to kick out!
   Now we had a dilemma!  The homeowner was not home.  No nearby houses or pedestrians.  And, remember the old days, no cell phone to call for help.  I walked around the roof perimeter, canvassing my options.  No soft ground and a 10 foot drop.  My 50 year old body didn’t like the looks of that.  A locust tree stood about 6 feet away – maybe a jump to its branches could work.  But I foresaw missing skin and bruises – or worse.
   There was occasional traffic about 100 feet away.  I swallowed my pride and started waving and gesturing – trying to communicate distress without looking too “uncool”.  Some drivers ignored me.  Others waved back!  I was being too tentative and not getting results.  Meanwhile the sun was going down.  A brisk wind was picking up.  The temperature was dropping.  I was in shirt sleeves.  Not pleasant.
   I cranked up my antics – sometimes looking freaked out, sometimes, I fear, angry, but definitely crazy.  Most drivers looked away and kept on driving.  I’m a pretty positive, optimistic guy, but I was starting to feel uncomfortable and think negative (desperate?) thoughts.  I had no idea when the homeowners would be back and dark was approaching.  The only solution I could think of, sure to work, was to (blush) strip down to my underwear and crank up the crazy look to the level of mentally deranged, degenerate, dangerous, disgusting (the 4 D’s of successful communication!).  Such actions I knew would bring a police response that would save me.  Maybe my name wouldn’t even get in the papers!  
   I took a deep breath and then tried one more wave, fully clothed.  The driver slowed down, pulled in the driveway and got out of the car with no apparent trepidation.  “You all right?” she asked pleasantly like she’d been dealing with guys like me all her life.  I resisted the urge to blow kisses and simply explained by embarrassing position – chimney sweep marooned on the roof (a little two-bit sissy roof!).  She braced the ladder.  I climbed down.  We chatted a bit and laughed at the circumstances.  I thanked her profusely, got her name and said I would call her to set up a free chimney clean.  I did.  No publicity.  Twenty years later and no recurrence of anything as laughably humiliating as this!